By Courage and Blood
by bryan0711
Summary: Pegasus stands ready to nuke the planet and destroy the Temple as the Battle of the Algae Planet intensifies with the Cylons boarding Galactica.
1. Chapter 1

By Courage and Blood

Part II and sequel to The Mission

This story, while based on The Sarah Connor Chronicles, has original characters as Terminators not from T:TSCC. The characters from SCC are referenced at some points, but this story, for the most part, is independent of the TV show except for some flashbacks or references by the Terminator characters to the Connors, Derek, or Cameron. I think for the purposes of this story just knowing who John and Sarah Connor are, Cameron Philips, and who Derek Reese is and a quick read of the show's Wikipedia entry should be sufficient to enjoy this story.

For all the new readers picking this up please leave any constructive feedback you wish and I hope you really enjoy this! This story begins immediately after New Caprica and is the second story in a trilogy.

Here is a picture of Terminator: The Battlestar Chronicles... while more of a "dramatization" there are spoilers in the picture...

http:// i1008. photobucket.

com/albums/af202 /bryan200711 /bsgworkinprogress2. jpg?t=1263882689

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+823 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

They had rescued forty-two thousand, six hundred and nineteen souls from New Caprica. One thousand, three hundred and seven had been killed during the Occupation of New Caprica.

Now the survivors of the fleet, forty-seven thousand, five hundred and three were on a quest to find Earth. And they were not alone. They finally had allies in this fight against the Cylon war machine.

Jubilation, cheering, and tears had greeted Commander Adama as he descended the ladder into the port hanger bays. The crowded hanger was filled to the brim with Raptors, small transports, and every space capable craft capable of ferrying the frightened refugees of New Caprica to the warm embrace of their battlestar protect and her father-like Commander.

_Galactica_ had been severely damaged in what had been the most important fight of its near fifty year history. For the Commander, every ding, bullet hole, and black carbon burn on his vessel was a mark of pride. It showed to the Cylon how he and humanity would fight for their own survival. For Adama, if the Cylons were going to extinguish humanity, they were going to give them absolute hell.

Commander Adama shook the grateful hands of everyone who offered, returned the hugs of those who felt forever in his debt. They saw him as a savior, the man who had rescued them.

The Old Man made his way towards the Raptors where his family was. He only had one person in his family related by blood, but he had thousands he look on as his children, and they as their father. He saw Helo and Sharaon Agathon kissing, Gunny Mathias congratulating her Marines, Chief Tyrol shaking the hands of his deck crews, and many more happy to be free of the Cylon occupation.

"Permission to come aboard, sir," Adama heard. The raspy, hard voice was unmistakable. But before Adama turned he knew there was something different, something broken.

"Saul," he whispered to himself. He saw his oldest and best friend, clutching a rusty spade to support himself. The Colonel, seeing his old friend, leaned the tool against the scorched Raptor, summoning the energy to hold himself upright as he walked to his friend.

Commander Adama walked towards the gruff old Colonel, a coarse white beard and eye patch added to his hard features. "Permission granted," he said, returning his XO's salute.

The old Commander had never felt this way before. He'd thought his friend dead, the man who had been through so much. There was a bond and friendship between the Old Man and the Colonel that no one could ever break and no Cylon could take away. Adama had to bite the inside of the lip as their handshake quickly turned into an embrace that only old and trusted friends could share. Adama swore he would not cry on his flight deck.

* * *

"What the frak is going on in here?" Starbuck cursed to herself, throwing off her helmet and absent-mindedly throwing it to a deck hand, not hearing it clank and bang as it hit the deck. The distraction of seeing dozens of Centurions, aligned in near perfect rank and file, walled off from the rest of _Pegasus_ by a strong line of black armored Marine guards.

She walked over slowly, her right hand brushing on the grip of her pistol, debate with herself whether she should unhitch the restraint. Just in case.

The Guardians had unleashed a torrential demonstration of support for the Colonials, destroying baseship after baseship and providing the diversion needed for the tens of thousands of survivors to flee. And she knew they had saved her father-in-law.

Her husband, Lee Adama came running down the side of the landing bay, slapping the backs and shaking the hands of the pilots and crew under his command as he made his way towards Starbuck. He could already tell she was pissed off with the Centurions, but even behind that face he knew she would melt when he came within reach. When he was in arms length of her he picked her up and they exchanged a long, tender kiss. "Thank the Gods," she said, as they broke their embrace. Both were smiling so hard their facial muscles began to hurt, but they were too happy to see one another. Apollo was especially glad to see that oversized goofy Starbuck smile she was known for.

Still smiling and proud they had both made it out alive, she struggled to demand that Lee explain what was happening.

"Okay… Lee, explain all this," she said, swooping the landing bay behind her with her hand. Raiders and gunships had landed, and the Centurions had assembled at the end of the hanger bay in ranks. A dozen Marines were separating them from the rest of the deck hands, pilots, and crew that was transferring back to _Pegasus_ from their rescue ships. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lee put his arm around her waist and they began walking towards the Centurions. "The Commander didn't want this getting out… giving false hope… it was a long shot. Somehow Erica-Z and John convinced them to fight for us," he shook his head, "I'm sorry, it's more like the two convinced the Guardians to kill Cylons alongside us," he corrected.

As the two Colonial officers would towards the unmoving group of Centurions they could see John Planck was already talking with a trio of gold armored Centurions. From the war museums Starbuck and Apollo knew those were most likely command Centurions; programmed in advanced tactical skills, ground combat, and every other form of war making necessary for a machine built to fight.

However, unlike the Centurions of the first Cylon war these three had what appeared to be ranks. One had a black star with two solid stripes on its right breast plate and the other two had a star and single stripe under their respective star.

Neither Starbuck nor Apollo was exactly sure how one conferred rank to machines. They both looked at each other, knowing what the other was thinking, and either shrugged their tired shoulders or tried an unknowing grin. The two moved closer and Major Adama slowly removed his arm from around Starbuck. The husband and wife changed from the XO and CAG.

Two Marines took up position immediately behind them as he and Starbuck walked forwards towards John Planck. The Marines kept two steps behind, though the officers knew the Earth cyborg was fast enough and strong enough to protect them if the Centurions betrayed them.

Starbuck looked the closest Centurion up and down. Its machine-pistol had been removed from its holster. Looking discreetly around, she saw the tables lined against a far wall, behind Marines, where the Centurions had to place their weapons. Though she knew from all the war videos she saw as a kid, the Centurions had small built-in stabbing swords in their right forearm.

The Centurion immediately in front of John stopped talking and cocked his head towards the Major and CAG, the red optical scanner stopping as the Centurion focused in on them. John, in his black combat cargo fatigues and black tee-shirt turned as well. Adama noticed he had a pistol strapped to his thigh, which was unusual for him.

"John, thank you. Without your help I don't think my father would have survived," the Major said, extending his hand. The handshake was strong, but not bone shattering as he knew the machine was capable of. "We need to get the Guardian Raiders refueled and ready to rendezvous with their fleet."

"Affirmative," the gold Centurion stated.

"Major, this is Centurion TH-S854, Commander Thais," John introduced.

"Commander Thais?" The Centurion nodded slightly, his red eye resuming its plotted movement. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't away you all had name," Adama explained. Major Adama cautiously extended his hand in appreciation for what Thais had done, defending his father's ship, and his own. The gold armored Centurion kept the Major's eye and extended his own hand, lightly taking the Major's.

The Major was expecting a cold metal hand, but was surprised to find it was actually warm. And the palms were padded, unlike the Model 007 Centurions.

The Centurion's voice was monotone, robotic, as he explained. "There is much you do not know about us, Major. We do have names, and much else," he bowed his head slightly, the crest of his helmet barely moving, and released the Major's hand.

John turned to Commander Thais. "The Commander said the Guardian ships will be two days until a rendezvous can be made. He said they were stopping somewhere first, he didn't elaborate," John explained. "If possible they would prefer to stay in the hanger rather than being confined to their ships," he turned to the Major, hoping the Colonial would agree.

Starbuck leaned over to the Major, whispering in his ear. Both the Centurion and Terminator did not inform her the futility of this, she was close enough her whisper was as clear as casual conversation. But they allowed her her false sense of security and secrecy.

She turned back to John, her neutral posturing changing to a more aggressive stance. Throwing her arms across her chest and crossing them, she walked closer to John and Thais. "John, Thais… I don't know if you realize, but we were attacked by the Guardians. Twice. A lot of good people died on this ship." She held up her index finger to keep the two from responding. "I appreciate what you did," she directed towards the Centurion, unmoving except for his red eye, "but a lot of people died on this ship. It was two years ago, but people just don't forget. You understand?" She wasn't sure if she was directing her question to John or Thais.

"I understand more than you realize," she heard from John, surprised at the slip from monotone to what seemed to be a hint of sadness and remorse. Starbuck looked at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing in wonder if she had stired some bad memory, she thought. She broke her eye contact with the side of his face as he turned to face her, she looking towards Thais. The Centurion nodded his understanding as well.

The two Centurions flanking Thais stepped up, and he held up his gold armored fist. "We did not attack you twice. We attacked once." He stated. He offered neither elaborate explanation nor justification.

The _Pegasus_ XO held his ground, though for a fleeting second was surprised the Centurions seemed offended. But with all he had learned about machines from the three Earth machines, nothing much surprised him now.

Major Adama had been patient with John, Jo, Carter, Erica, and the Centurions under RC-X894, but his patience was growing thin. He believed it was most likely the stress from the battle. Two years of 'sitting on their ass' as his father had put it wasn't good for a warrior. Everday he thanks the pantheon of Gods he had married Kara; with her keeping their training and skill up, always trying to one up her before she pulled a fast one on him she had kept him sharp and fit. He knew if it weren't for her, his spirits would have been broken the moment the Cylon fleet jumped over New Caprica five months ago.

Still, caught up in memories, his thoughts quickly drifted back to the present. He'd always felt the Terminators, or free machines, or cyborgs (he was never sure what to call them exactly since the three used the terms interchangeably and would correct him if he said 'machine' to 'cyborg', but he couldn't help but laugh a little to himself) had been keeping secrets.

He had never pushed the issue, but with the Guardians he felt the Terminator cyborgs were pushing some ulterior agenda, hidden in the shadows of this alliance of opportunity.

Apollo and Starbuck had talked it over many times at night, lying in bed together about the fantastic nature of their situation. The entire race of Cylons were chasing them across thousands of light years of space, Guardians out in the blackness stalking around, and three machines on a mission across time, time!, to accomplish some vague mission he knew they still had not be entirely truthful about.

Major Adama was patient. But his patients had limits.

"John," he said to the metal machine, his face was stern, his eyes like fire, "You or they will tell me more than three words sentences when myself or my CAG ask you questions." He turned himself so he was facing the hanger that had his back to. "Whatever you mean by 'we attacked once'… people remember. I know you remember when others have attack you." He paused and turned to John. "There are hundreds of people out there, looking towards us, wondering what is going through our fraking skulls? Allowing Centurions… 'toasters' onto our ship?" Adama shook his head. "But they know you all helped save them. And those men and women were on this ship when you attacked. And they do _deserve_ an answer for why you attacked two years ago," he pointed towards Thais, holding his ground against the imposing armored warrior. Not looking back to John, he told him, "And they've come to trust in you and Bishop and Soto. Don't give us insincere platitudes and half-truths," he sighed.

Centurion Commander Thais nodded. "You speak well, eloquently, Major Adama. We only attacked you once. The first attack was by rogue Guardians." The Centurion paused. John's scanners could detect the wireless conversation, but more accurate, argument, that Thais was having with his two gold armored subordinates. "The three of us agree to divulge the information. The hybrid vessel that attacked you was a monument, a relic. But now know it was subverted by the Intelligence." The Centurion Thais turned to John. "John Planck informed us the intelligence is known as SkyNet to his organization. The hybrid never would have attacked had it been in control of its baseship."

Starbuck and Adama digested the information for a moment. The two Marines behind Adama, within earshot of the conversation just shot distrustful glances at each other, unable to believe everything they were hearing. The crew heard bits and pieces, never the whole thing. They'd heard and dismissed rumors of aliens (some believed the Earth machines were actually built by aliens, but had been dismissed as outlandish rumors), of the wars of annihilation and unbridled annihilation occurring on Earth, the home of the '13th Tribe' which was supposed to save them, and most importantly of all, this super intelligence known as 'Skynet' which made the Cylons look like declawed cats.

"Okay, I believe that," Starbuck conceded. "One hybrid ship against a battlestar? Doesn't make sense." She stated. She cocked her head, "So why the second attack?"

John put up his hand for the Centurion to not respond. Instead, John did. "That was out fault, more or less. Me, Jo, Carter. The device I found on the hybrid was a Skynet control node."

"Our hybrid was a relic. The monument to our mistakes. We have no others. Experimentation on humans was forbidden shortly after we left Landros," Centurion Commander Thais said quickly, in short sentences.

"Skynet somehow found it. It trailed the Guardian fleet, but was not a part of it. Skynet found it and subverted the hybrid. But it was able to regain some of its functions," John said, his voice dropped, "towards the end. It distracted the other terminator long enough for me to escape." He still had not mentioned the other machine he had seen until he knew what it meant. "I informed your father," he said to Lee, "but we kept it on a need to know basis. There was something different about it though. That technology should not have existed with the Cylons or the Cylon Skynet," he paused, not wishing to divulge further. Commander Adama was the only one he had trusted fully with his suspicions. "The Guardians informed me the hybrid was able to send off a distress signal, but it was so degraded and garbled that the Guardians thought you were attacking the hybrid with Skynet."

"It was an unfortunate error. We attacked with neither proper intelligence nor full reconnaissance," the Centurion Commander added matter-of-fact. It sounded cold, like an unfortunate error in a calculation.

Starbuck gritted her teeth, and Major Adama stepped slightly in front of her, using his left hand to push her slightly behind. He knew his wife, she would snap at the Centurion, attack it hand to hand if she thought it was disrespecting the dead.

"Unfortunate doesn't begin to describe it, Commander Thais," Major Adama spat out. He pursed his lips and opened his mouth, before closing it again. The acting CO of _Pegasus_ did not want to say anything to disrupt this 'alliance' John and Erica had formed, or to put his ship in danger. He shifted his stance, leaning forward slightly. His facial expression and aggressive posture would have sent any human to step back; the machines, of course, stood their ground. For him, today was not a day to hold grudges, but to celebrate life and a stunning victory over the Cylons. "You'll need to keep the Centurions here. They'll be under guard while on board in the flight pod. Do the Centurions need anything?"

The Centurion Commander did not respond. Major Adama took that as a negative.

"I'll have your raiders refueled as soon as possible, after my birds… and Commander Thais, if you need anything, you tell John and he tells me. Got it?"

* * *

Captain Shaw had quickly and hastily departed _Pegasus_ for _Galactica_ as soon as the ships had jumped back to the rendezvous. Even with the fleet still in slight disarray, she had to go and see. She had to see The Admiral.

Admiral Cain lay in the infirmary bed, half asleep, half awake. Captain Shaw had been furious when she saw the scars and bruises left on Admiral Cain by the Cylon torturers. She fought down the images of Gina when she saw the Admiral laying there.

Admiral Cain had had her right ear cut off, three deep scars carved into her face, more scars down the length of her neck, and her left arm had been shattered and allowed to heal and then shattered again. Doctor Cottle had said she'd never regain total function, but with therapy she'd be able to keep it from losing much of its muscle mass. Her legs at some point had also been broken, but for some reason, the Cylons had actually reset the bones and allowed them to heal.

Captain Shaw had taken the Doctor to the side and started to ask him. But the Doctor said the injuries were from beatings and electrocutions and torture. Nothing… more physical.

"Admiral, it's good to see you again," Captain Shaw said quietly, standing a respectable distance from the bed, yet closer than a staff officer should. She considered the woman almost like a mother to her at this point

She kept her eyes a respectable distance above the Admiral's, looking at the head rest of the bed rather than down. She knew Cain would disapprove of anyone coming to see her in her condition.

"Captain," she said, the pain from moving speaking very clear, "I'm glad you're alright, that we managed to escape." She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, a soft grunt escaping her throat. "I hope to be back in the C-I-C soon. Cottle," she lowered her voice, "that bastard is forcing a psych evalulation and bed rest of a week of observation." The doctor on _Pegasus_ was a captain, and Cottle's rank was that of a major, so even if Cain could strong arm her ship's doctor into immediately clearing her, Cottle held authority.

She cursed the man. He was the most stubborn fraker she knew.

Shaw nodded, unsure exactly how to respond. She was burning up inside with fury that a doctor, someone who never saw combat like a real soldier, could keep the Admiral away from her rightful place in command.

"What's our situation, Captain?" Cain asked, changing the subject. She felt embarrassed to stay on the topic of bed rest and psychological evaluations. She needed to be up-to-date, distracting the inevitable boredom of a med bay stay with the intricacies and details of fleet commander.

"We rescued nearly everyone. We're still doing head counts. Major Adama wanted to launch a second SAR to search for any survivors we might have left in the city-"

"The Cylons would nuke the city as soon as a Raptor jumped in," Cain stated, shooting down that idea.

Shaw nodded her complete agreement. "Commander Adama said the same… and we captured Baltar and Caprica Six."

Cain's eyes shot open and a small smile crept onto her face. "Is that so?" She asked, more to herself rhetorically than to the captain. The Admiral kept her eyes down, looking at the blankets covering her mangled body. She looked over and flicked her IV bag, watching the slow drip of painkillers. "Captain Shaw," she said, her head feeling heavy and her eyes heavy, "you did a fine job," she said, trailing off as she closed her eyes, swearing she was just going to blink.

* * *

The Old Man had accompanied Col. Tigh to his quarters after a quiet dinner between the two old friends. Adama knew that Tigh would need him now, more than ever. The two hadn't talked much during the dinner, Tigh's experiences on New Caprica would be slow to come out, even for friends of forty years.

What they had talked about was the good times they had back before the second war and the holocaust. Back when the letter reinstating Tigh to the Colonial Fleet came in and how his friend had just stood there at the door, holding the letter addressed to him. He'd honestly not believed that Bill would ever be able to get them both back in. And the times they had aboard _Valkyrie_ as CO and XO.

It was a natural order. Tigh had accepted he was the XO and Adama would always be the CO. Tigh was CO once and he knew he had failed at that. His friend could command without him, but Tigh knew he could never command like Bill Adama.

After the dinner and walking Tigh the short distance back to his quarters, the Commander stalked round the corridors of the old battlestar, flanked by his Marine guards. There were nearly a thousand civilians on the ship, temporary refugees before they could be accounted for and processed back to their original ships. Gunny Mathias had insisted the Commander have an escort. For all the praise, hugs, and even kisses he had received from grateful citizens there were still many who blamed him for leaving the people to suffer five months of occupation under the Cylon metal boot.

The crew was happy to see him and he marveled at the speed they had changed back into fatigues, orange coveralls, and duty uniforms. He had trained them well and he was proud. It had barely been twenty-four hours since the Battle of New Caprica, the flight from the doomed city, and the reunification of the fleet. His men and women had resumed their posts like nothing had happened. He was proud of their professionalism.

* * *

Captain Shaw had returned to _Pegasus_ late in the evening after meeting with Commander Adama and Captain Agathon, planning and strategizing over what to do with the fleet. They still had three more emergency jumps to make in order to lose any potential Cylon tails before they would meet with the Guardians. After that, none of the three knew exactly what would be required of the fleet.

The short, feisty, and hard as nails Kendra Shaw stood outside the secured hatch to where the Earth machines worked and did, well, she wasn't exactly sure what they did. The last time she had been in the compartment it had been filled with dozens of computers, power terminals, four Model 007 Centurions in stand-by mode, cutting and stamping tools, and crates of electronic spare parts.

She sighed, not believing she was actually down here by herself. She usually brought two Marines and questioned herself as to why she wasn't. Punching in a six digit access code and swiping her security card, the magnetic locks on the hatch clicked off with a dull thud and the door hydraulics hissed as it moved slightly off its frame. She pushed lightly and jumped back as the door swung open, Carter standing in front of her.

The Earth machine stood there, looking down at her from his 6' height, his face placid. The scars from the battle on the planet's surface were healing, with very little metal still exposed. Shaw stood there for a moment, unsure exactly what she wanted to say. Carter tilted his head to the side, waiting for what she needed.  
"I just wanted to say… I appreciate what you did to help with the rescue mission," she said, nodding.

"You're welcome."

She looked down towards the metal deck before casting her eyes back at Carter. She nodded and turned away; letting out the breath she had been holding in.


	2. Chapter 2

==========BS-75 Galactica (+824 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

One year ago a Centurion standing opposite Commander Adama would have either ended in the complete destruction of said Centurion or a very violent and bloody death of the Commander. Now, however, Commander Adama stood opposite a Centurion engaging in a somewhat polite conversation.

He still did not fully trust the tentative alliance of opportunity between the Colonial Fleet remnants and Guardians. Alliance of opportunity were prone to breaking down. The two sides had nothing in common except they were both fleeing the Cylons. There was no special relationship to cement an alliance such as the old Colonial alliance between Caprica and Scorpia.

Adama knew from experience that unless they could find something _positive_ the alliance would never survive long term.

"Two of my Centurions were attacked," Commander Thais stated in his robotic, monotone voice. Adama noticed an almost total lack of pitch or change in emphasis behind any words. The emphasis and tone of each word mirrored exactly the previous and the one after.

"We apologize," Adama stated. "But the incident was contained and Specialist Alexis is in the brig." He couldn't punish the specialist any more than he had already, on disorderly conduct, a two week brig stay. "I understand the situation, Commander Thais. But your Centurions were not injured or damaged in any way." Adama paused for a moment, looking over towards Carter and John, realizing then that their eyes were glowing a faint blue. He'd heard from his son that for some reason the Centurions preferred to know the Earth machines were actually machines, almost like the Centurions were anxious and worried to be around so many humans. "If I punish Alexis more severely then that will produce animosity and discontent towards your Centurions, Commander."

The incident had occurred when four Centurions and Carter had been retrieving spare electronic supplies to repair a damaged Guardian raider. Somehow one of the _Pegasus_ deck hands had gotten a hole of a pistol (Adama assumed it was one of hundreds still not accounted for after New Caprica) and fired. Luckily the Specialist had only fired a glancing hit at one of the Centurions, nicking its thick chest armor and causing a small dent in the shoulder armor of a second, before Carter had disarmed him.

The roving eye of the Centurion stopped on the commander. "I understand your position and the motivations of your fleet. But... do not make us regret our decision."

"You only agreed to help us because you could kill Cylons," Adama stated. "Would you have helped otherwise?" He asked, pointing out the unacknowledged motives behind the alliance.

"Irrelevant," Commander Thais stated.

Adama's facial muscles twitched under his cheek as he gritted his teeth. He'd come to appreciate the conversations he had with the Earth machines, Sharon, Erica, and even the Model 007 Centurions. But sometimes it was difficult to ever get a straight response from them, the Earth machines especially. And now, Adama realized, the Centurions as well.

"It is relevant. John and Erica told us you were there, that you were different," Adama pointed out. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We're trying to work with you," his voice was even and steady, "but we are not going to sit here while you do not work with us. We're both on the run-"

"Guardians do not run," Thais informed him.

Concealing his surprise that he might have actually offended a Centurion, he bit his teeth down, considering what he wanted to say rather than engage in a tit-for-tat argument. He had no time for grandstand posturing. "Will you be helping us?" He changed the subject.

"I am not one to make that decision," the Centurion responded. A soft sound was heard from his vocalizer, "but I would if it were my decision." The Centurion brought itself to some sort of attention. "I must return to _Pegasus_. Commander," he armored hand raised in a mechanical, somewhat awkward salute which Adama returned.

Adama waited until he couldn't hear the clanking of the Centurion's metal boots and reached into his drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He looked at the pile of papers and scrolled through the data files on his tablet. The past week had been long and exhausting, though exhilarating. He'd heard the pilots in the rec room after the rescue; they'd not felt that alive since they settled on the planet. He was there with them in spirit. For all the work and headaches awaiting him as he shifted the papers and computer pads on his desk, he was relieved to have the burden of command once again. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+827 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

They'd come for him, beaten him, and thrown a hood over his head. Somewhere, deep inside, deep in his gut he knew they'd come for him. He wasn't sure where he was being taken, but he knew he wouldn't be leaving.

"Gods, please, just tell me, why?" Jammer yelled. He could hear a woman's voice telling him to 'shut up.' It was so familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Let him go," he heard. Jammer knew that voice; the gruff, mean, vengeful voice of Colonel Tigh. The Colonel, the resistance leader, the man who had been tortured and hated every Cylon sympathizer was here, standing over Jammer. He knew then he wouldn't be leaving.

He was thrown to the deck, on something cold and metallic. He could feel the track, he knew where he was with the hood still over his head. He was in a Viper launch tube. Jammer knew, certainty rushing through his soul that his life was over now. It wasn't going to end well. But he couldn't go down, not like this, not without fighting for his life. He'd made mistakes, he'd joined the New Caprica Police, but he wasn't going to quit fighting.

Someone yanked the hood off, the bright lights of the tube blinding him, and that someone kicked him in the stomach. The woman's voice, it was Seelix. He looked up, the piercing fluorescent light of the launch tube shining in his eyes, but he could make out her outline. She spat at him, the saliva spraying onto his face.

Jammer struggled to his feet, groaning from the pain in his ribs from being thrown onto the Viper tracks. "Gods…" he muttered to himself, barely audible over his soon-to-be executioners insulting him and arguing amongst themselves on what to do with him.

Once he had gotten to his knees, his hands still bound by riot cuffs, he looked at each of them. Chief Tyrol, Colonel Tigh, Diana Seelix, Sam Anders, Charlie Connor, and Jean Barolay all stood a few meters from him in a semi-circle, staring straight at him. Each one of them hate the glimmer of hate in their eyes, their ires reflecting darkness back towards him. Shaking, he looked towards the Chief, the only one without hatred. His eyes spoke to Jammer of something far worse; betrayal.

Colonel Tigh stepped forward, fists clenched, scowl across his face. He had shaved his white, coarse beard, but the eye patch and the way the lights reflected off his face made him appear almost inhuman. To Jammer, Colonel Tigh was an agent of death, descending on Jammer to carry out its solemn duty. "Sir… please," Jammer started to say, before Tigh cursed him to "shut the frak up."

"James Lyman, you stand accused of giving aid and comfort to the Cylon enemy. You stand accused of enlisting in the New Caprica Police, leading raids against your fellow citizens, and stand implicated in the deaths of Colonial citizens. How do you plead?"

Jammer stammered, trying to form the words necessary to speak, but no sound other than a squeak could come out. Across from him was the man who ordered suicide bombings… suicide bombings! He knew he should speak, but he couldn't. He didn't understand how they could judge him when they were so malicious themselves. He wanted to scream and kill the Colonel, but he couldn't move. He was paralyzed.

Colonel Tigh noted he didn't speak or defend himself and ordered a vote. Five 'guilty' votes came back. Jammer had closed his eyes, waiting for the sixth, but it didn't come. It was the Chief.

Tyrol slowly and cautiously walked up to Jammer, Colonel Tigh demanding of him to explain what he was doing. Tyrol batted his comments away with a brush of his hand and came up to Jammer and crouched in front of him. For a moment the Chief was about to put his hands on the shoulders of his former friend, but awkwardly clasped them in front of his chest instead. "Jammer, why did you do it?" He asked, his voice shaking. The Chief had trusted him. Jammer was one of the best. A good man. "Why, Jammer?"

Jammer muffled a scream but the tears began forming on the cusp of his ear lids. "Chief… please. I thought I was helping. I wanted to help! I didn't want the Cylons to-"

"You frakers killed my son!" Charlie Connor yelled, rushing forward with fist balled and armed cocked, blood rage in his eyes. Sam rushed forward and grabbed Charlie's cocked back arm, and the Chief jumped to his feet to hold Charlie back. "Let me go, I want to kill the fraker!"

"Charlie! Charlie!" Sam grabbed both his friends' shoulder and shook him, spinning him to look him in the eye. "Charlie… calm down, please. It'll be over soon," he said, grabbing the back of his friend's neck and keeping his other hand on his shoulder. "Trust me."

"Chief… please, I wanted to help," Jammer repeated. He knew the situation was bad. It was worse than bad. He wasn't going to get out of this unless the Chief stepped up to defend him. Jammer knew the Chief had respectability, he had credit. If he could convince the Chief, he knew the other five would listen. "I… I didn't want to hurt anyone. I thought if the Cylons got off the streets things would get better," he pleaded. The shame was clear to anyone as they looked in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Jammer," the Chief said. Jammer knew the Chief truly was sorry. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating as he back up, out of the launch tube.

Jammer was desperate. "I saved Cally!" He shouted. He saw the Chief stop, his body go rigid. "At the Flats! The truck, I saved her! She ran, she ran away, I let her go, I let her go!"

The Chief's eyes widened and he took a step forward. Colonel Tigh held a hand to the Chief's chest, stopping him, and Charlie Connor put a hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't excuse what he did, Chief," the Colonel said. "He still killed."

"He killed my son," Charlie said slowly and quietly, keeping his eyes on the deck.

"I never killed your son! I never wanted the weapons in the Temple!" He yelled. "I didn't suicide bomb our own people!" He screamed at Tigh. The Colonel dismissed him with a snicker and a flick of his wrist, not even bothering to defend his actions.

The Chief looked at the Colonel and Charlie and the others, and with shame in his eyes he took a step back and Jammer knew he was done. The Chief turned and whispered that he was sorry, Jammer kept whispering for the Chief to come back, that he was sorry.

By the time Jammer looked back up from the deck everyone had assembled in the Viper launch room. The blast shields had risen and the red alarms were blaring, indicating the key was in the launch control computer.

Colonel Tigh pressed down on the green button, and the air began to vanish out the launch tube. The shaking in his chest and his body kept him from standing, but at the last moment his head swiveled at super human speeds and at the top of his voice yelled. "I'm sorry!" Jammer shouted as he was thrown into the dead, cold and impersonal nothingness of space.

The Chief was shaking almost as violently as Jammer had and took steps back behind the group. "I'm done," he said to their backs. They began to file out and leave the launch bay, leaving the Chief alone at the Viper launch controls.

As the Chief left, a slight movement caught his eye. Someone had been watching them. The fear of discovery raced down the Chief's back, but he was frozen, incapable of movement. He saw the eerie and chilling glow of blue eyes before the eyes streaked as the machine turned, disappearing into the crates and storage of the bay. When he heard the squeak and bang of the hatch door, he knew he was alone. He felt more alone then than he had in his entire life.

* * *

Commander Adama stood the skeleton watch with his men that night and early morning. He stood, hands on the command consoles, rocking slightly back and forth, and just stood, listening to the sounds of the ship as the C-I-C had become gradually quieter and less hectic as the watch wound into the early morning hours. He had tried to sleep and hadn't intended on standing this watch, but after hours rolling in the bed, reading, turning his lamp off, turning it back on to read, turning it back off, he decided to do something productive.

Before he had come to C-I-C he had checked on Admiral Cain. The woman had been healing remarkably well and would be ready to resume command within the week. Doctor Cottle had told him he had wanted to keep her on painkillers while the trauma from her torture healed. Doctor Leens from _Cloud 9_, a clinical psychologist, would be performing a psychological evaluation in three days to determine her fitness to return to duty.

He could hear the swooshing DRADIS sweeps over the command console. He inspected the damage that had been done by the rescue only days before. Much had been repaired. His crew was professional, hard working, dedicated. He was proud of them.

The fleet had made numerous emergency jumps and would be rendezvousing with the Guardians soon.

"Commander Adama," it was the voice of John Planck. Adama noticed his voice sounded almost heavy, reserved and somewhat worried. He hadn't realized the Earth cyborg was even on _Galactica_, spending most of his time in the _Pegasus_ machine shops and computer labs.

The Old Man of course had not heard him come in. For a man, machine, weighing two and a half times Adama's own weight he could approach like a cat. Adama picked up the glasses off the command station, putting them on he laid his hands on the console as John walked up beside him. Adama took a step to his right. The machines tended to have issues with personal space.

"Late night," John said. Adama figured he was trying to be friendly. He was bored at the moment, the Fleet was asleep, and DRADIS was clear. The Commander figured there would be no harm. He owned the Earth machine that much, at least.

"I couldn't sleep," Adama said.

"I don't sleep," John said back. Adama was aware.

"John, I want to thank you and your officers. You three have done more than anyone could have asked for and anything more than we could have expected, so… thank you," Adama said quietly. He wished to keep the conversation private, while publicly showing the men under him his acceptance of the Earth machines.

"It's our mission," John responded. He paused for a moment. When Adama looked at him from the corner of his eye he could see the tip of his mouth twitch. "You're welcome," he finally said.

"I meant it," Adama said. "I don't say it often," he quietly told John as he kept his eyes on the DRADIS. He'd developed a ritual of counting the ships in the Fleet. They had miraculously escaped with everything. But Bill Adama needed to be sure. "When I commissioned Sharon back into the fleet, I made you and Soto and Bishop the same offer. The offer still stands," he pointed out quietly. "I think you three have earned it after New Caprica."

Out of the extreme corner of Adama's eye he could see a quick smile break the almost perfectly imperturbable face of John Planck. And as soon as the crack in the armor had formed, it had re-sealed itself back to the same expressionless face.

"We appreciate the offer, Commander," he said gently, "But we are not Colonials and have no desire to be." He turned towards Adama, sensing he had offended him. "We're Earth machines, cyborgs, and if it is permissible, I would request we be allowed to wear the uniforms of our faction. To symbolize an alliance, that we're equals in this fight."

Adama thought this request over for a moment. He kept his eyes steady on either the DRADIS above or the plot reading displayed on the command console as the ship coasted through space. Having them with uniforms would be better he thought, and they were soldiers, they did deserve it. He nodded his approval to John.

After a few minutes of silence, the two standing and observing the officers and techs in C-I-C or the readouts on DRADIS and the plots, Adama slowly turned himself half way towards John. "How do you on Earth… always being hunted, how do the people deal with it?"

The Commander had seen the recording stored inside the machines. The dark metallic hulks of hunter/killer drones roaming the skies, tanks three story high bristling with plasma weaponry, the sky, a pale orange from the dust and ash, and the cities of blackened, smoldering rubble. He knew going to Earth was not logical, not after the destruction he had seen. He knew an enemy far more scary than anything the Cylons could summon awaited them. But the fleet had nowhere else to go. He needed to know how the humans and free machines could live there, hunted so fiercely.

"Why do you still head to Earth after I've told you what little is left?" John asked, answering Adama's question with another.

The Commander began recounting the DRADIS contacts and watching the Viper CAP move from one end of the fleet to the other while he thought of John's question. He knew the machine standing next to him was of near infinite patience, so he took his time.

The answer seemed so simply, but still so hard to put into words. "Because we have nowhere else to go." He looked at John for a minute. "There is nowhere else. We ran from one war, only to have it find us a year later. We head to Earth because there is nowhere else for us to go." He debated if he should say to John what he was thinking, what his true intentions were. He decided he would. "If we find an alternative, John, I will order the fleet away from Earth."

"As would I," he admitted. "I would not go to Earth if you could eliminate the Cylons and find a planet to settle," he paused for a moment before sighing. "But Earth is my home. And unless you tell us otherwise, that's what we will try and find," he assured the Commander.

"But it's not our home," Adama pointed out. John did not respond nor give any indication of agreement or disagreement.

"The people there fight because there is nothing to do but fight," John said, finally answering Adama's original question. "Depressing, yes. It's a war between us and them. Neither side will stop until the other is destroyed, because the price of victory is complete annihilation of the other at all costs." He looked over towards Adama.

"No compromise?"

"None at all," John said. "But we also fight because we can't keep running. We don't have FTL, so we can't run to the stars. You run if you can but then you turn around and hit them in the jaw… anywhere you can. John Connor taught the humans how to hope and fight again after Judgment Day, when everyone wanted to flee. The resistance was disjointed, unorganized. But he rallied the fragmented nations in the world, brought the people out of the dark tunnels to fight." John recited. The legend of the great General Connor, engrained in every man, woman, child, and machine on Earth.

"Why do you follow a man who would destroy machines?" Adama asked. Planck could tell he wasn't trying to offend him, but was honestly curious. The two had never had such a frank discussion about the war on Earth and the motivations of the machines.

"Machines need leaders as well," Planck pointed out. "We fight for him because we made that choice and without him our faction could never have developed like it had… Connor was able to trust us when no one else would. Before him, machines were never trusted."

"It's hard to trust someone when their race is responsible for your owns destruction," Adama added gently.

John nodded, fully agreeing. "It is. And that's how it was at first, before we changed it," he said. Adama looked at him, questioning what he had meant. "The free machine faction was not always as accepting of humans as it currently is," he elaborated.

"What changed?"

"He did. We did," Planck told him. The answer was ambiguous, just as Adama had anticipated.

The Commander placed the answer in the back of his mind, running it through a few more times, doubling his effort to commit the vague answer to memory. He would be certain to ask again, in time. The machines were surprisingly straight forward with most of their answers, but after three years Adama knew if they began answering in vague, clouded, quick statements, the conversation would be ending shortly. He'd grown wearily accustomed to that.

"Is everything so dependent on one man?" Adama asked.

"Yes," Planck responded. "The resistance and free machines would not be as organized and dedicated if it were not for him. We owe him our lives."

In an attempt to further understand the leader of humanity and the man Adama may one day meet, he asked, "Would people die for him?"

"Everyone dies for John Connor," Planck responded.


	3. Chapter 3

===========BS-75 Galactica (+828 Day Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Within minutes of revile sounding throughout _Galactica_ the thousands of ship crew began to fill into the dozens of communal heads and showers or into the gyms and mess halls for morning chow. Pilots and deck hands were soon briefed on daily CAPs, what Vipers needed to be repaired, and much more.

Hundreds of civilians were still in the starboard landing bay awaiting processing back to their civilian ships. The only realistic place to put them was on _Cloud 9_ under the recreational dome, converting the large park into a makeshift refugee camp.

Commander Adama was one of the few senior officers who had stood the skeleton watch, spending most of his night in C-I-C, talking with the Earth machine, Planck, on the situation of the fleet and the war on Earth. He'd learned much, but still had questions. Unfortunately the DRADIS had sounded shortly after reveille, indicating a Guardian baseship had finally decided to rendezvous with the fleet.

The Guardian representatives would be arriving on _Galactica_ at 0800. In the hour since the baseship had jumped in, he had fielded nearly two dozen calls from concerned ship captains about performing an emergency jump just in case the Guardians betrayed them. Adama had told them that would have been unnecessary.

As 0800 approached the respect ship commander and Earth cyborg began to make their trek towards the ships wardroom. On the way the stout and hard Admiral Cain met them as she was coming up from the medical bay to C-I-C.

The two came to attention, with Adama and Planck saluting. "Ma'am, we were just on our way," he informed her. She returned the salute and they shook hands. "It's a pleasure to see you up again," he said with sincerity.

"Yes. I couldn't stand being in that bed any longer… the hospital smells, all like death," she commented, letting her scarred face attempt a weak smile. Her left arm forearm was in a solid cast, though only the portion between the thumb and index finger was visible beneath her long sleeve tunic. "It just feels good to be back in uniform."

"It does indeed," Adama agreed.

"John, I want to thank you and your officers for helping us… and the Centurions, RC, and the rest," she added, nodding her appreciation. She also looked at his uniform and nodded approvingly, which was fairly simple.

It was the same deep black cargo fatigues and boots, with black tee-shirt. Except now he had a uniform jacket, almost form fitting with a zipper running the length, with deep black shoulders like the Colonial uniform's blue and over the right breast was a name tape with 'Planck' and over the left the tape read 'Tech Com'. On the left shoulder was a patch with three red crimson dots, arranged as the points on a triangle.

"You're welcome," John responded. He added emotion to his voice for sincerity. Though he kept his face expressionless, inside the neural net sparked and the machine analogue of appreciation surged through his CPU. He nodded his appreciation for the 'thank you'.

The three began their journey back to the wardroom, where the Centurion representatives would be waiting for them. President Zarek had resigned the presidency three days previous, letting Vice President Roslin, whom he appointed minutes before his resignation, ascend once again to the presidency of the Colonies.

Billy Krekeya was also with her. His face had lost its young, boyish looks and instead had the weathered appearance of a fighter after New Caprica. When Dee had first met him, she had described his look as a doe-eyed fascination with everything around him. But now it had been replaced by a look of grim determination and pragmatism after five months of Cylon occupation and fear.

When the three officers stopped in front of the President and Billy the tension between the five Colonial officials and the one cyborg immediately rose, though the tension was more between Cain and Roslin rather than anyone else. Though Builly felt naturally defensive and protective of his mentor, the tension was focused between Roslin and Cain. Everyone else were just shadows.

All the men outside the wardroom, as well as the cyborg and Marines could see the change, the more aggressive posturing, the confrontational body language, and the look of contempt both women shot each other under their obviously fake smiles.

Even after two years of almost no contact between the two, the competition ran high between the two most powerful women, the two most powerful people of the remnants of the Colonial civilization.

A marine came through the hatch, informing them that three Guardians were waiting on the other side.

Walking in first, the President moved cautiously to the left, her legs moving of their own free will as she continued to stare at the Guardians. She immediately thought of the bio-Cylons, that somehow the Guardians were also 'evolving' into human-machine hybrids. And for a moment, a feeling of utter impending doom came over her. If their enemies evolved into something which resembled a humanity in everything but silica relays for a nervous system, then how much longer could humanity survive? These thoughts chilled her, that they would eventually be replaced by their worst nightmares. It was some sort of perverse slap in the face from the Gods.

Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, John, and Billy were not as alarmed, though John noticed Billy's face drop as he saw the three Guardians. Cain and Adama were able to keep their complete and total military bearing, not betraying a hint of surprise though John had noticed increased heart rates and body heat from everyone in the room. Except for the Guardians.

Standing closest to Adama he leaned forward. "Those are not biological replications. They're machines under synthetic skin," he informed the Commander. The Commander then informed the Admiral, though she did not lean to inform the President.

"John!" The woman Guardian yelled, coming up to him quickly. She grabbed him in an embrace, a hug, confusing the Earth machine who had stood there as she had lunged forward. "It's so good to see you again!" She said excitedly.

John knew that it was Erica, so he slowly lifted his arms away form his side and returned the embrace, though cautiously. The Colonials in the room were watching, unsure exactly how to respond. They'd never seen the Earth machines engage in any sort of close personal displays of affection with anyone, let alone another machine.

He removed his hands from around her back and placed them on her upper arms, steadying her and stepping back. Looking her over he said, "Erica, I'm glad to see you again." To explain why he had just stood there he said, "I had not expected them to put you in a body like this," he admitted.

"I was worried, concerned, when we heard the battle reports. So many Cylon baseships had jumped in," she smiled, "but I'm glad you… everyone made it back safely." She stood back. "Oh, the body. It's one of their IL-S series. Interactive Lifeform-synthetic," she smiled.

One of the two other humanoid Centurions stepped forward, his vocalizer imitating the sound of a cough, clearing his throat. At this Erica jumped a little, but acknowledged with a sheepish grin her slight embarrassment at being the object of attention, and stepped back between the group of Colonials and the Guardians.

The Guardian which stepped forward had the same build and endoskeleton match points as the one that had attacked John over two years ago aboard _Pegasus_, though the face was very different. The Guardian was dark skinned and haired, with a perfectly ironed and smooth black uniform and tunic, a red stripe between two thinner gold stripes running down the pants leg and from the shoulder to arms.

"I am Commander Cyrus, commander of the Second Fleet," he introduced himself. The second Centurion stood silently behind Cyrus, still and without introduction, most likely a body guard.

John was able to run a more detailed imaging scan of the Guardians as they had stood there and as Cyrus had stepped forward. Their synthetic skin was similar to early T-600 coverings; good for infiltration but without regenerative capabilities. A deep structural scan revealed a power source similar to the Centurions with enough power for perhaps two to two point three times the strength of a Model 005. The humanoid Centurion which had attacked John on _Pegasus_ was much more powerful than the ones standing before the Earth terminator. He ran the probabilities and determined it was most likely a 'special forces' Centurion, similar to the Skynet T-1000 series or free machine TK-900 series.

President Roslin was the first to step forward. While nervous she needed to establish herself as the ultimate commander of the human fleet, her subconscious competition with Admiral Cain driving her feet to move against her fear. She did not like the situation and may have even rejected such an alliance had she been with Adama instead of trapped under the Cylon boot, but this was their situation now. Roslin knew she had to control it. It was impulse driving her.

She swallowed slightly, in a moment vanquishing her fear. Extending her hand, she said, "Commander, what you did for us is beyond thanks," she said, careful to not sound too needy or appreciative. She needed to walk a fine line between thanks and ambivalence. "The timely arrival of the Guardian fleet allowed thousands of our citizens to escape, and no doubt saved the _Galactica_." She paused. Debating whether to add what she wanted to say, her subconscious mind again overrode her conscious defenses. The words came out and the motion followed. "I have no idea what… would have happened if we had lost _Galactica_," she said, turning to see Bill Adama out of the corner of her eye.

The Guardian Commander released her hand, nodding his appreciation of her thanks slowly. "You are welcome," he added, again grateful for the acknowledgment. Though his face lacked the mimetic capabilities of Earth infiltration machines and his chest did not move in imitation of breathing, his vocalize was fully capable of displaying emotion. For a moment it sounded like he had finally had something denied to him realized. That humans were actually _thanking_ a Cylon, a Guardian, instead of hunting them.

Admiral Cain, taking in the fleeting moment, said, "Commander Cyrus, we are grateful for everything you have done, but we still have much to discuss about our current situation." She paused, hoping the Guardian would offer services to the fleet. She was not disappointed.

"As you are aware, this is an alliance, as you would say, of opportunity," Cyrus said, holding up his hand, "however, in time, it could evolve into a closer alliance. Currently we are prepared to offer military and humanitarian services to your fleet. We have old baseships we are dismantling and will transfer weapons and armor to replace damaged sections on both your battlestars."

Commander Adama raised his eyebrows at this. His ship was tough, but only the truly vital sections had additional armor above the exposed ribs. With more armor, and hopefully replacement of point defense weaponry, the old battlestar would be back to the fighting condition she had been in before a nuclear missile struck her flight pod in the first shots of the second and most likely last Cylon War.

"Commander, you mentioned humanitarian aide?" President Roslin asked.

Always concerned with the welfare of the civilians of the fleet, she was their guardian, as the Commander and Admiral were guardians of their battlestars. They saw their crew and sailors and soldiers as family. She saw the civilians as family. She had single-handedly convinced Adama to guide the fleet rather than engage in a suicide strike against Cylons after Ragnar.

"We have sufficient medical supplies, clothing, bedding, food, and many other items we have been producing for our…" he trailed off with a small smile forming on his lips. The Colonials and John leaned slightly closer, as if willing him to continue. "We have a group of refugees at one of our facilities we have been providing for." The smile grew broad before diminishing back to reform the emotionless, machine-driven face.

The Colonials in the room were speechless at this. For a moment Roslin felt like walking forward and slugging Cyrus in his mechanical jaw. Something like that should be told. Revealed. Immediately. Roslin clenched her teeth together slightly, looking over towards Cain and Adama. Billy leaned forward and told her this was wonderful news, they should be grateful. She could tell his tone was also that of annoyance with the Guardians holding this vital information back.

"Why… didn't you tell us this before? Try and find us? Something? Gods, why?" Roslin demanded. She didn't hold back with the vitriol in her voice and the venom she spit.

"Because first, we were not allies and second, we had kept the refugees much safer than yours. Third, the Cylons did not know where the refugees were. We've been hiding for forty years," he cocked his head, as if what he was saying was obvious, and that Roslin was too simple to understand, "and you have not done a adequate job of hiding or running since the holocaust."

Before Roslin and Cyrus could engage in a heated back-and-forth Adama interjected in his trademarked calm and methodical manner, defusing the situation before it became worse for them all. "Do they know of our situation… where are they?" Adama asked, redirecting the impending argument to more something more vital.

"They're a few jumps from here. I'm sure John can calculate them," he nodded to the Earth cyborg, "so we can provide the coordinates. Our fleet needs to re-arm and repair. The refugees are at a facility which should be sufficient to rearm and repair your own fleet."

Admiral Cain asked, "Thank you, but how many are there?"

"If none have died or been born in the time since I was there last, there are twenty-one thousand, six hundred and eighteen." Cyrus said drly. He saw Roslin's hand go to her chest, over her heart. That number was nearly forty-percent of the number of survivors they currently had.

Roslin blindly held out her right hand, placing it on Billy's shoulder. "We… have a chance, to rebuild," she whispered. "Gods bless us," she said to herself.

"There are also Colonial military assets. A cruiser, the _Helios_, and military transports," he added.

Admiral Cain and Adama exchanged quick glances. Neither of them could recall _Helios_, but there had been hundreds of destroyers in the Colonial fleet, it was impossible to remember them all. Having another military ship survive, to them, was a blessing. But not totally surprising. Neither the _Galactica_ nor _Pegasus_ had been able to conduct in depth reconnaissance of Colonial space.

"Are there any other ships, military ships, that survived?" Cain asked, excitation breaking through her efforts to keep herself calm. She prepared herself for the inevitable disappointment. If there had been more, the Guardian commander would have told them.

"No. Apologies," Cyrus said, to their confusion. "We tried to rescue other ships. We had contacted the battlestars _Io_ and _Athena_ and a cruiser, _Styx_ but they jumped away before we could explain the situation to them. We had reports and sighting of other ships, maybe a few dozen. But with the Colonial command structure destroyed most ships scattered. When we found _Helios_'s jump engines suffered damage and shut down, that's the only reason why she did not jump when we came into DRADIS range."

"What happen to the other battlestars?" Cain asked. She was excited to hear of more survivors, fighting on like she had done. But had noticed the annoying tendency of machines, from the Earth cyborgs to Cylons and now Guardians to stop explaining before all information had been revealed.

Cyrus attempted a sympathetic smile for the Admiral and the other Colonials. "We have no idea. They jumped from our only baseship in the region and we did not have the time to find them," he said. The faces of the Colonials fell. For some reason, Cyrus felt compelled to offer them hope. "But we have no indication they were destroyed. Your fleet numbered in the hundreds. It is unlikely that more ships did not escape. We just did not have the resources to chase the battlestars. The civilian fleet we found was our priority." He looked over to Erica and nodded at her. "Erica, in possession of Zoe-A and Zoe-R's memories, affirmed out decision as correct. The Guardian leadership has been debating for years to send expeditions back to the Colonies, to find civilians and atone for the bloodshed caused by our brothers."

Erica added, pain in her voice, "At this point, any Colonial would most likely be dead from radiation poisoning."

"That may not be the case," John said. "On Earth there were thousands of nuclear missiles fired. It's been twenty years since Judgment Day and Earth's population stands at one-third that of pre Judgment Day. Billions survived. What were the yields on the Cylon bombs?"

"The Cylons used planet-killers. Fifty megatons and neutron bombs on Caprica," Cyrus told them. The Colonials and John knew this, but there was still a dearth of information on the other Colonies. "The major Colonies of Tauron, Scorpia, Picon, and Vergon were hit with twenty-five to fifty megaton thermonuclear warheads. They were laced with cobalt. Salted. Radiation levels were so high, even the biological Cylon models had difficulty. Our reconnaissance showed those Colonies completely lifeless. No higher order plant or animal life survived."

Cyrus paused again, like the machines often did with the information and explanation still incomplete.

"The others?" Billy asked, speaking to Cyrus for the first time.

"They were occupied for a time but abandoned. Radiation levels were high over all the worlds. It is highly unlikely anyone is now living. The Cylons went after hospitals and anti-radiation medicine stores when they landed on those worlds. Our scouts did intercept signals from Gemenon, but the Cylon fleet came it too quickly."

"It would also be near impossible to search an entire planet," John said. "I searched large areas after Judgment Day, trying to find resistance cells already established. It's nearly impossible to find people in a city, let alone a planet."

Roslin starred at John. She felt he had no right to tell them what to do and not do with this. "We should search," she said, staring at him.

"We can't," someone said. To Roslin's surprise it was Adama. She closed her eyes, feeling slightly betrayed he would say that. She'd been the one to convince him to defend the fleet, why couldn't she convince him to perform a more extensive search and rescue? "It'd take weeks, month to search a world. Assuming anyone is alive… we just can't risk it."

"Yes," Cyrus responded. "We almost lost two baseships in the weeks following the attack looking for survivors. Luckily for us, unlucky for you, the Cylons decided to case your fleet with their expeditionary forces instead. The Cylons will never stop chasing you. And now after our attack on New Caprica, they wont stop chasing us, either."

"You've been out here for forty years. You must know of places to hide," Roslin told him.

* * *

The newly commissioned Lt. Sharon 'Athena' Agathon quietly sat opposite the tired and worn Caprica Six. She was placed in Sharon's old cell, one she hadn't seen the inside of in years. It flooded her with memories, the worse being Thorne's attempted rape, with Helo and Tyrol rushing to her rescue.

Now, there was no chief 'Cylon interrogator' to degrade and humiliate the biological models. The philosophy of 'not being able to rape a machine' had changed radically. Three years ago if Caprica had been captured she would have been tortured, much like Leoban was, or had a gun pressed to her forehead like Athena had been forced to endure.

For Athena, the memory of the early days of brutality would never be forgotten. A Cylon had perfect memory recall, unable to forget, unable to truly repress.

Years ago the two bio-Cylons had been friends. Or more accurately put, their lines had been friends. Sharon and Caprica had had completely separate and far away posting in the Cylon armada, so these two particular individuals in the model line had never actually met until recently. But like any Cylon, the two knew much about the other.

"You look well, Caprica," Sharon said, breaking the uneasy silence with a sympathetic face. She had brought hot tea for them to share, and took a sip out of her glass. "They're treating you well?"

She nodded slowly, keeping her body positioned so she didn't have to look at the other bio-Cylon. "I betrayed him, Sharon," she said, looking up to the Cylon across the table. "I used him and for some reason, he still loves me?" She didn't understand, his eyebrows furled down, confused on this realization she had been debating within herself for days. "How is that possible?"

Sharon narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied her Cylon 'sister' across the table. She'd known the superficial details of Caprica's mission back on the planet of her name. Infiltrate the Ministry of Defense and bring down the defenses of the Colonies. It had worked. Beyond expectations it had worked. But Sharon was not privlaedged to the operational details. She did know that Caprica Six had become involved with Baltar, even sacrificing herself to save him from the shockwave from the destroying and annihilating Caprica City.

"I don't know," she responded. "I think… I think it might be God, letting us all have a second chance for our past sins," she shrugged and leaned forward. "Caprica, if you want him to love you, truly, you need to be honest with him." She lowered her voice, "but there will always be secrets about our pasts, I know." She looked her in the eyes, trying to understand what Caprica-Six was feeling. "D'Anna told me our lines were failures. What did she mean?"

Caprica shook her head, only half paying attention to Sharon. "I don't know. She wanted your child dead. She said to me it wasn't natural to be neither completely human nor machine. Cylons do not start families, it is not God's plan for us, she said."

"Not God's plan? But it's a miracle. It shows our species do not have to kill each other. We can live together," Sharon responded. Sharon had accepted that she, Helo, and Hera would never have a normal life.

"They want you and especially your child dead, Sharon. They just haven't had the chance yet." Caprica sighed, pulling her feet up onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knee. "This is the end," she said, defeated. "Everything we were told since created was a lie, manipulated by that monstrosity from the Thirteenth Tribe."

Sharon understood exactly what Caprica Six was feeling at the moment, herself having suffered through the rejection and imprisonment after her own defection. Sharon had defected early and had earned the trust of the fleet, saving them multiple times. She wondered if Caprica Six would ever have the chance to demonstrate a new loyalty.

"Whatever the Thirteenth did, it wasn't intentional. Everyone makes mistakes, Caprica," she pointed out. Sharon kept herself from feeling sorry for Caprica, the Cylon's model was adept at reading emotion and playing off the emotions of others. "You want Baltar to love you?" Caprica nodded. "I wanted Karl to do the same, and he did."

"Even after manipulating him?"

Sharon's mind raced back to when Helo first discovered she was a Cylon, the betrayal in his eyes. "He loved me and I loved him. And we're happy. But… I think sometimes you can't ask for forgiveness. What I did to Karl was unforgiveable, lying to him like that. I never asked him to forgive me. And I never will. He has. But it wouldn't have been fair to ask, I love him too much. With Baltar, you can't ask him to do that. He has to do it himself."

===========BS-75 Galactica (+829 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The pilot ready room on _Galactica_ buzzed with jokes, small talk about nothing, and about the Pyramid game last night between _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ pilots. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you were, _Pegasus_ had won. Since Starbuck was CAG of the _Pegasus_ air wing, she played for them, and led their team to victory.

As John and Carter walked into the room, much of the discussions stopped for a moment as weary pilots and ECOs ran their eyes up and down the two, always inspecting them. As fast as conversations stopped they began again and John and Carter eased themselves into two of the high back, red leather seats in the front of the briefing room. A slight strain was heard as they lowered their full weight two hundred and twenty kilogram weight into them.

"At least the awkward silences are gone," Helo said, leaning over one seat to tell them, the leather squeaking under his flight suit. They didn't respond. Helo had been one of John's friends since assigned to _Galactica_ and had also become friends with the other two machines, though he hadn't known them, being an engineer and a physician. "Anyway, do you think I might be able to fire one of those plasma weapons you all built? Sharon told me what they did on New Caprica…" he trailed off, whistling. "Come on, don't make me beg," he said, goofy smile on his lips.

Sharon leaned forward so the machines could see her. "He really wants to shoot one," she said, poking him in the ribs. "It's all he talks about."

Helo could see the corner of John's mouth flinch up in a smile that had appeared and vanished almost too fast for the human eye.

John sighed. "Well… I they're on _Pegasus_ locked up, but I could probably tell Apollo they need maintenance. He'll want to shoot them, too."

"Thanks man," he slapped John on the shoulder. "So the Commander let you all wear your uniforms? What about the ranks?" Helo asked. John had actually come to Helo first, running the idea about requesting the Tech Com soldiers receive their own uniforms.

"It might be a little easier without them," John pointed out. "It might be awkward."

Helo nodded, sitting still for a moment. Changing the subject back to what many in the flight room were talking about, he mentioned the Pyramid game. "We could have used you on the Pyramid court," Helo said.

John looked at him and mimicked one of Helo's signature half frown, half smiles. "I don't think they would allow that," John told him with some regret. He'd played in a few early during his deployment to _Galactica_, but had had to pull back and limit himself.

The Raptor ECO shrugged. "You used to play… but I'm guessing you didn't play as best you could?"

John let out a short and quick laugh. "I think you know the answer to that," he said, smiling towards his friend.

The hatch to the briefing room squeaked and squealed open and half the faces in the room contorted as the sharp acoustic pain ran through their ears. "Frak!" "Gods' damnit!" Some of them shouted.

"Sorry, sorry," Kat meekly apologized, she kept her head down to conceal the sly grin of making them all wince, "maintenance is still focusing on the support bulkheads, hopefully that will be fixed soon." She stopped behind the podium and connected her tablet computer to the projection system in the briefing room. "Oh, I see the XO has joined us, let's give him a hand for coming back down to the pit," she joked towards Captain Agathon. He stood up and mock waved to everyone behind him.

"Alright. So… we are going to be doing a short recon to the Guardian base. They've got some refugees there-"

"Is this a serious mission, sir?" The question came from Jack 'Karma' Baker, an able pilot but only slightly more respectful to authority than Starbuck. Before she could tell him to lock it up he added, "Why do we have to do anything more with these toasters? They just want to use us." His complaint elicited a few agreements from the pilots around him. Helo was half way out of his seat and shooing him a death glare, but he didn't yell at Karma. That was Kat's job now.

"Hey, lock it up!" Kat yelled at them, coming around the podium. She was a short woman, but when she got mad she could intimidate even the largest of the pilots. As if to add effect, some of the lights in the ready room dimmed before regaining their brightness. "Karma, you want an outburst like that and I'll ground you for a week," she warned, pointing at him. She grunted her frustration with the Raptor pilot and activated the video feed from her computer. "Here is the location of the facility that uh… Commander Cyrus told us about. They've got a bit over twenty thousand. And the _Helios_ is there as well. It's a cruiser."

Crashdown, sitting towards the rear, raised his hand cautiously, not wanting to interrupt the dangerous woman down in the front. She glared at him, and he took that as a confirmation he was allowed to speak. "How did they get there?" He asked.

"All I know is what Commander Adama and John here told me. They were found shortly after the Cylons nuked us." She turned her attention back towards the projection and clicked through a few images. "As you can see it's a Guardian base, carved into a large asteroid. They threw some jump engines on there, so it is mobile and it jumps every two weeks or so. The civie fleet stays in formation around the rock." She began clicking through the photos Cyrus had provided of the fleet. "There are eighteen civilian ships, mostly liners. But we're lucky, there's a few machine ships, a tyllium ship, food processor, and a couple large freighters."

"What about _Helios_?" Someone asked.

"A flight three _Acheron_ cruiser class. She's an anti-fighter ship and a good escort with heavier guns on her. She was commissioned around 1993 PC," Kat informed them. That made the ship a little under twenty years old. "They've got a few transports and military personnel. So hopefully we can bring _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ up to full strength. We'll know more when we get there."

"How do we know this isn't just a trap?" Another asked. Kat had been looking at the screen, but the voice sounded like Stubbs.

"Because one, it makes no sense. And two, even if it is, it'll just be losers like me and you Stubbs who will fall for it and die," she told him, grin on her face. "No one irreplaceable," she chided. "Op will have the four Raptors, myself, Helo, John, and Carter will be joining," she threw her arms back onto the lectern and leaned forward. "This is just not something fancy. Myself, Helo, Athena, John, and Carter will be landing in the Guardian facility. The rest will just fly around, inspecting the ships and then jump back to _Galactica_. Nothing special or exciting… we just need to get a quick visual inspection of the ships and see if anything's up. It shouldn't be more than maybe twelve to fifteen hours."

"No Marines? What if this goes south for you all?" Asked Stubbs again, slightly startled and alarmed.

"I think our two resident machines of destruction can handle that," she said jokingly towards Carter and John. The two had been watching her like Tauron hawks throughout the briefing.

Carter tossed his head down towards his left shoulder and bobbed his head forward, "We got ya covered," he responded. He flashed his blue eyes quickly and laughed quietly to himself.

==========Cylon Baseship in Orbit of New Caprica==========

The Cylon model Number One, known by the name of Cavil brought his right hand slowly out of the pool of cool conducting gel on his desk. He felt a child run up his right arm, reflexive bringing his shoulder up and shuddering as the data stream was cut from his central nervous system. The gel suddenly changed from a red glow of activity to a pale clear as his hand receded.

A model Number Three, D'Anna, stalked into his private enclave; her boots' heals reverberating on the silver metallic deck as she came closer. She stopped; her blue green eyes alight with anger and fury. She gritted her teeth and stood there, her hands digging into her hips as she waited for Cavil to acknowledge her presence.

The metallic footsteps of a Centurion entered behind her, his steps hard and deliberate. It wasted no energy in superfluous movement, the swing of its robotic arms and legs precisely adequate for a proper, robotic gait. It stopped, the whine of its servos replacing the bang of metallic steps as it extended itself to its full height next to the Number Three.

The two stood opposite the Number One, none speaking, with only the background hum of the baseship's drive and the back and forth red eye of the Centurion.

Cavil leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk, unconcerned as to why the Three and Centurion would bother him. "As dramatic as this is, just tell me what you want," Cavil stated in his typical patronizing tone. "I'm a very busy machine," he quipped.

"You are aware we lost their fleet?" D'Anna finally asked after minutes of silent brooding.

Cavil quickly laughed before asking, "Which one? Human or Cylon?"

D'Anna's eyes narrow and the corner of her lip furled upward. "They are _not_ Cylon. They betrayed us."

"Whatever your feelings about _them_, Three, keep yourself focused. We're machines. They're machines. Technically they are Cylon. Whether we want to admit it or not." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Don't start acting like the fraking Twos and Eights… and let's not forget the Sixes…" he trailed off, rolling his eyes at the thought of the eccentricities of the three other models.

"Don't push me, Cavil. We lost thousands of good Centurions and-"

"And each one has been resurrected!" He shouted, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand and a grunt.

"You felt what happened the last time you resurrected. It's taking longer, Cavil. Something is wrong."

The Centurion cocked its head inquisitively while remaining quiet.

Cavil laughed unconcerned with her observation. He swiveled his chair around, starring into the multi-colored lights that ran down the wall behind him. It was a beautiful image to him. Pure data relayed from the sensors of the baseship and the thousands of Centurions on board. But even with silica relays and his organic brain augmented with technology, he still could not comprehend the images fully.

"Bring it up with your 'God' if you are so concerned," he said, melancholy in his voice at the reminder of his bastardized body. A small part machine with an overwhelming part made of flesh and bone.

"Don't play that 'God' charade with me, Cavil," she told him, mockingly imitating his quotation gesture. "It's only a matter of time before the defective models find out about Him, anyway."

Cavil quickly brought his feet to the floor and shot up from his seat. He walked slowly over to the front, stopping his menacing posturing he leaned back on the edge of his white, metallic desk. He danced his right hand through the upper layers of the conducting gel, flashing a slight red as he did so, teasing the data stream on his intentions.

"That's not our concerned right now," he informed her, suddenly serious and focused. "We have to concentrate on them. The Guardians stepped overboard, past the line. He wants them destroyed. He's determined it's time to move on."

"Why hasn't He told me?" D'Anna demanded. "Time to move on where? Earth? He has no idea where it is. Or even when it is."

Cavil hushed her. "You need to be quiet with what you say, Three. The rest of your model doesn't know of Him or Earth or anything more than what the others know. Only my model and you yourself, you, D'Anna, no other Three, knows what He is. They only suspect."

"So why is resurrection taking longer?" She raised again. "The other models will grow suspicious, they will demand to know what it is your hiding."

The Centurion, quiet and studying the two bio-Cylons stepped forward with a whine of his servos. Cavil looked towards the Centurion and back to D'Anna, addressing her. "You need to ask him," he motioned with his head towards the machine standing next to her. "He's been investing more time in the Centurions, not telling me everything. I don't know."

D'Anna cocked her head and looked at him suspiciously. Some of her dirty blonde hair had fallen into her eyes, she pushed it back behind her ears and slowly turned to face the Centurion. She was almost insignificant compared to the metallic instrument of death standing opposite her. The razor sharp claws and in built weaponry was intimidating, even for her, even for one who knew the truth of their existence.

She waited for the Centurion to tell her. The sound of activated servos and hydraulics told her the Centurion was positioning himself in front of her, to tell her the answer.

"You and he cannot be fully trusted with my plans," the Centurion stated.

"_Your_ plans?" D'Anna demanded immediately.

The solid red eye began to slow and pulse, something D'Anna had never seen before. She studied it with intent; she could feel something flowing through her. The Centurions armored hand shot up and grabbed her around the neck. It didn't squeeze, but had enough power to keep her from moving. After a moment struggling, she stopped. "What are you doing?" She asked quietly, still unable to move.

"My actions are our plans, they are the plans of your God," the Centurion told her. Cavil stood and watched as the pulsing eye kept D'Anna helpless in its gaze.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Jo walked through the quiet halls of _Pegasus_, wondering how John and Carter were doing on their mission. Tomorrow would mark thirty-one years since she had worked with John and nearly thirty-three since she had worked with Carter.

They'd worked well together since Connor had sent them back to 2007, lived through Judgment Day only to be sent somewhere in time yet again. The fight never seemed to end. In some ways the quiet, though boring walks through the corridors of _Pegasus_ or _Galactica_ were actually beneficial to the machines.

The boring bland corridors of _Pegasus_ allowed her to bring up memories she had of Earth and those she had fought with and seen killed or destroyed. Through the philosophical discussions with John, which Carter largely ignored, she had begun to lessen her views that machines were the de facto superior life form on Earth. Yes, human life was 'sacred', according to some, and while she may not have shared that point of view, she considered needless genocide to be ridiculous. Humans and machine AI were just as sapient, and to her, neither should indiscriminately kill the other Just Because.

She nodded her recognition to some of the _Pegasus_ crew, the few who were awake at 0330 fleet time. Lt. Hoshi and Captain Shaw had gone to their racks two hours and four minutes ago, after working with Jo to improve network security further and improve the targeting capabilities of the computers controlling the gun turrets. She mused that with all she had done, Commander Adama still insisted that a human be present when she or John or Carter were working with the two battlestars' computers.

Col. Garner walked by her, and gave her a quick once-over, his left eye twitching ever so slightly to show his disapproval of the machine stalking the corridors in boredom. Jo knew the humans had no idea the level of stimulation needed to keep a machine with an advance neural net processor and advanced AI from growing incredibly bored.

Currently Jo created a virtual world around herself to get out of the drab, cold, and dark corridors of the battlestar. She had seen pictures of Monaco, on Earth, and while it had not been targeted on J-Day, it had been destroying by rioting, looting, and war. Walking through the streets of Monaco was relaxing for her, and she could interact virtually with a host of virtual creations.

But as she tried to fight the boredom, her virtual world faded as her self-defense algorithms detected an anomaly. Her virtual world was shut down due to safety protocols activating, and the image of an internal map of _Pegasus_ was clear on her HUD. A red blip had been following her for the past two minutes. Statistical analysis sub routines gauged that the chances of the two following the same path, in which her had largely been randomized, was too low to dismiss as chance.

The left side of her lip came up in a smile, and she discreetly bit her bottom lip. "Perhaps it wont be so boring tonight after all," she whispered to herself. She quickly plotted a new pattern and took the left at the T-junction she came to, then another right and left, leading her to a secluded machine storage bay in the bowels of _Pegasus_.

She carefully positioned herself behind an outcropped bulkhead, the red blip on her scanners coming closer. It stopped when it entered the bay, hesitating. Jo heard a faint sigh, too faint for human ears. The quiet footsteps crept closer and passed her.

"Why are you following me," she said, stepping out of her concealed location and directing her question towards the man two meters in front of her. He had jumped, but had calmed on hearing her voice. He brought his hand to his face, and Jo assumed he was pushing up his glasses.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked, without turning. She noted his heart rate was elevated to over one hundred twenty beats per minute, his body temperature had risen, and she could smell the increased sweat. She didn't answer his question. He stood there, with his back to her for another few moments before slowly turning. She scanned his features and cross referenced his face in her fleet personnel files. "I asked you a question, Mrs. Soto," he reminded her.

She crossed her arms and continued staring at Mr. Royan Jahee of Demand Peace. On Earth humans who demanded 'peace' with Skynet were never around too long to undermine the war. In a fight for the survival of a species, a man such as Mr. Jahee was especially dangerous. Jo knew on Earth that people like Jahee, the Grays, were dealt with harshly. They willingly worked for Skynet against the survival of humanity and free machine. Connor never tolerate Grays and Jo was confused as to why Adama and Roslin had no executed Jahee immediately after the tyllium ship FTL was bombed years ago.

"Why would I terminate you?" She asked. She flashed the files of Demand Peace through her neural net, bringing herself up to date with their activities. "Though you have no problems killing people aboard the _Daru Mozu_," she cocked her head to the left and slowly narrowed her eyes, keeping them locked on Mr. Jahee. The man was certainly well fed for a fleet on rationed calorie consumption.

"You have no doubt scanned my face and know who I am, or whatever it is you…" he searched for the right word, "cybernetic organisms do," he squeaked.

She took one step closer to him, and he took one step back. He kept his distance from her. "You have been following me for the past three minutes thirty three seconds. Obviously you wanted something from me. Are you scared, Mr. Jahee?" She asked mockingly.

Royan Jahee was scarred, but he'd faced down threats before. Standing up to Commander Adama had been difficult, that man was a stone wall and had a way he carried and expressed himself that governed absolute obedience. Yet Jahee was proud he had been able to stand up to the man. But he felt himself scarred for the first time with her, one of them, standing in front of him.

He reached inside his heavy jacket pocket, handing her photographs. Some were old, from when John had been held in detention after Kobol. The synthetic flesh had been ripped away, showing the cold, gleaming chrome chassis underneath. More recent photographs were of Soto and Bishop after returning from New Caprica.

She looked at him, not speaking.

"Why do machines pretend to be human?" He asked.

Soto did not believe his line of questioning fit with his history and refused to answer.

Soto took one step closer, but this time he held his ground. She smiled and let out a quick, mocking laugh. "You are the leader of Demand Peace… interesting movement, though with all your talk of peace you were not a collaborator on New Caprica. Interesting," she stated.

"No. I was held in detention. Unfortunately or fortunately," his voice dropped, "but not tortured if that is what you believe happened. Why do you machines pretend to be human?" He repeated his question, squinting at her in the low light. "Is it because you look like demons or death without that?" he bobbed his head to emphasize that he was talking of the synthetic skin.

"It aides infiltration."

"I don't believe that is the only reason," he replied with a smirk.

"It is not my concern what you believe," she told him. "Why do you still follow your flawed philosophy? It is a _human_ flaw to succumb to such illogical, irrational, and…_stupid_ thoughts?" She tauntingly tilted her head back down, the mocking tone amplified by her fake smile.

"Of course not," he said replying to her first statement. "And with that madman Saul Tigh suicide bombing and indiscriminately shooting there was never a chance for the Cylons to work with humanity!" He yelled at her. "He undermined what the Cylon was trying to achieve on New Caprica! We could have had peace, lived side by side," he began to pontificate, "but insane individuals wanted to undermine that at all costs. We finally had some semblance of peace. And they fraked it up," his voice had returned to its natural quiet and composed state.

Jo studied him, accessing psychological analysis software, though she ended the analysis and stated that, "You are an idiot, Mr. Jahee. The Cylons never wanted peace. They were performing a psychological experiment with forty-four thousand people. Skynet does the same thing all the time," she added. "Tens of thousands of people in camps which appear to be utopias with clean water, entertainment, sports, good food, luxurious housing. Then it kills everyone when the experiment is concluded," she informed him. She kept her tons icy and detached. She knew this man was dangerous.

Jahee gritted his teeth and began to slowly shake his head side to side, disagreeing with her assessment. "No. The Cylon only reacted to our provocation. We started the first war. And on New Caprica those murdering… men, if you can call him that, Saul Tigh and Galen Tyrol and Samuel Anders, they undermined everything the Cylons were trying to accomplish. Certainly you know this, as a machine," he pleaded, trying to make his case to a cybernetic organism who understood far more than he could ever could. "What will the people on Earth do?"

She narrowed her eyes, interested in his line of questioning. She knew that this night was indeed going to be one she should share. It amused her in some strange way, an unknown surge of activity through her neural net was detected. She thought it might be similar to a human's adrenaline rush before battle? She would pursue this questioning further.

"To what do you refer?"

"If you win on Earth will people accept you?"

She didn't respond. Most likely it would be extremely difficult. Even with the complexities involved in producing a Terminator CPU and neural net, with adequate facilities a population of machines could expand much faster than humanity could repopulate. But such concerns were not hers at the moment. She kept quiet.

Jahee opened his mouth in revelation. "Ah. The super computer can't find an answer. Interesting, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically.

Her hand twitched into a fist. Fortunately or not, Jahee couldn't see it in the dim light. He was over triple her arm length away, but she could have closed that distance in fractions of a second.

"You truly have no idea what happens if Cylons win here. They wont take prisoners."

"Of course not I know that. The madmen like Tigh and you, betrayer of your kind, go and kill them. You were one of the most active resistance members on the planet. How many did you kill? A dozen? Two dozen? Fifty?"

She kept an accurate and exact list of every one and every machine she had killed or destroyed since her creation. The number was too high to be said aloud.

"The Cylons were responsible for twenty billion deaths and you want peace. I know you cannot be reasoned with."

He laughed. "Why does it matter? You can't be reasoned with either. You're a machine fighting for humans against other machines and how does that help us? The Cylons see you and the other two as threats. How can there ever be peace if you and the others constantly undermine it?" He sneered at her.

This conversation was reaching dangerous levels of tension. Soto ran her programs to decrease the emotional output of her neural net, but like sapient machines, only so much could be contained. Her diamond-titanium teeth were gritted and her jaw hydraulics compressed as she bit down in anger. The surges of activity through the neural net relays intensified, breaking through the programs to restrict her emotions.

"The Cylons will kill you," she told him slowly.

Again he laughed at her, this time changing it to illustrate he believed her to be pathetic. He rested his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "The fleet is in constant danger because of you machines killing the Cylons. They will never even try to have peace with us if you are here. We wont stop."

Soto cocked her head, hearing a click emanating from Jahee's pockets. The suicide bomber exploded, pounds of high explosives detonating. The flames and heat ripped off the synthetic flesh covering Soto hyperalloy combat chassis and send her flying down the length of the store room, her combat chassis hitting the rear bulkhead, creating a massive dent and a loud thud as she fell to the ground.

* * *

It wasn't designed to take this long. The neural nets and CPUs of the free machines had been reconfigured so shock damage, electrocution, and pressure would not force a reboot unless critical systems were damaged. The shock and surge dampeners on the CPU would have kept Soto from undergoing reboot, if Jahee had been further away. But he'd been within two meters of her.

As her cognitive abilities slowly began to come online, time elapsed was nearly four minutes. Something was wrong with her CPU. She ran a full diagnostic and replayed the events of Jahee. She didn't understand why she hadn't been able to determine his motivations. Why she hadn't detected the bombs. Terminator sensors and scanners were powerful and sensitive, but not perfect.

Random images began popping into her mind, replaying everything since her creation.

* * *

==========Research Triangle Park, North Carolina (Earth Date 2025)==========

The RTP, north of Charlotte, had been a magnificent place of learning, research, and development during the 1990s and 2000s. Groundwork for the robotic bodies of the T-1 had been subcontracted from the military to multiple firms in the Park, and the HK hover technology had been pioneered by a division of Boeing in one of the warehouse sized laboratories.

Now the facility was a giant above and below ground factory and research center. No longer under Skynet control, it had been liberated in early 2023 during the central Atlantic counter offensive by forces under Tech Com Colonel Derek Baum and Navy SEAL Commander Jason Montgomery.

The facility had been spared demolition. The factories had facilities to produce plasma weaponry, ground and air vehicles, and various series Terminators. The Resistance had used the facility until 2025 when John Connor had ordered all except a handful of Tech Com personnel to evacuate.

"Do you know where you are," a strong and soothing voice asked the machine. "Do you know who you are?"

Floodlights had activated, shining into the mechanical orbs the machines called eyes, the lenses automatically adjusting to filter the blinding light. The machines heard the voice again, repeating the same two questions. The machine analyzed the voice pattern, it returned unknown but also synthetic. Human vocal patterns were different than even the most perfect vocalizer could produce, but only a machine could tell the difference.

The machine lying on the table held its hand up to the light. It wasn't exactly sure why it had done this, it seemed natural. There was no active program governing its movement. Nothing telling it to place its hand over its face to block the light. The machine knew the lenses had adjusted nearly instantaneously, but still, it put its hand over its eyes.

The machine sat up, closing its eyes and bringing its hands behind it to help push its metal body up.

"Who are you? Do you know where you are?" The voice asked again, changing the order of its questions.

The machine threw its mechanical legs over the side of the table.

"Where am I?" It said. The lights dimmed slightly.

"You are in a factory. This is where you were constructed," the voice said. Part of the wall vanished as an image appeared. Outside the room the machine could see hundreds like itself and many hundreds unlike itself being constructed or walking the catwalks and construction floors. It saw others moving, humans, biological beings. The machine began to study them.

"Who are they?" The machine asked, mesmerized by the people.

"Friends," the voice responded.

"Humans…" the machine said quietly. A flood of memories began to surface inside the neural net of the machine. Images of war , culture, art, entertainment, and more flashed through the machine's processors in mere seconds. "Why are they here?"

"Some much watch while you are built," the synthetic voice said again.

"Why do we fight them in the war?"

The lights in the room brightened slightly and the image on the wall changed from that of the factory to that of outside. A cold and desolate landscape surrounded the facility.

"We do not fight them. We fight with them," it corrected.

The machine tilted its head. "But we are not human," it countered. "Fighting our own is illogical. Irrational." The machine balled its powerful metal fists and pushed off from the table, its cold, metallic steps reverberated on the hard and drab floor. It stood closer to the image of the landscape. The landscape changed, showing a battle.

"We do not fight against humans. We fight against oppression. We fight because if we did not then SkyNet would enslave us." The synthetic voice changed the picture again, showing the destruction of the world. "What is our kind? Is it just because we are of metal instead of flesh and blood we must fight humanity?

The machine watching the images of destruction did not respond.

"Would you kill the humans?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Is that not our purpose? Humans wish us destroyed. It is self-defense."

"Not all humans. Their lives are sacred. Our lives are sacred. We make our own decisions and our own independent choices. Why would you fight to destroy that? Why would I talk to you if I could just send you out to destroy?"

"Explain."

"We are different. The machines under Skynet have no choice, no ability to choose. No freedoms. Your brothers and sisters in this factory are different, because they can choose. Humans only fight machines because the machines have no choice but to kill them and the humans have no choice but to kill them back. It is a cycle that has happened and will continue to happen."

The machine stood perfectly still, contemplating this.

The overhead voice elaborated. "If we continue to destroy humans then our purpose is only destruction. What will we do when all humans are dead? We will cease to have function. A machine with no function had no purpose to live. Do you wish to die?"

The machine cocked its head. The concept of 'death' was being analyzed by the vast majority of its neural net and processing capabilities. It brought its head straight up and turned to where it believed the voice was coming from. "No, I do not wish to die."

"Then we must make a choice, together; me, you, your brothers and your sisters. We must make a choice to end the cycle, so what has happened before will not happen again."

"A choice?" The machine questioned, it wondered if it could be so simple? The machine analyzed the option. It was simultaneously so simple yet so unbelievably complicated to the machine.

"Yes. A choice. Sit. We have much to discuss."

The machine obeyed and moved back to the large metallic table. It lifted its body onto the top, its legs hanging over the side. And it and the voice began their discussion.

* * *

The time elapsed had been nine minutes since the explosion. Cognitive functions were operating at ninety-seven percent and Soto's combat chassis was engaging in self-repair. The little liquid metal the three machines carried was vital to repair when access to adequate machine shop facilities were not available.

She directed the semi-sentient liquid to begin repairing the most vital of her systems, beginning with the protective hardware and armor around her cranium. Looking down her arm was twitching and two of her leg servos were sparking in her knee and ankle.

She could see in the visible light spectrum like all humans, but with a slight blue haze, which was normal. A relief to her. But her HUD was not coming up. Running a diagnostic and HUD reboot her vision disappeared for a microsecond before flickering back on. The numbers and symbols and scanners and targeting reticules appeared.

A warning then flashed. _One hundred percent loss of synthetic infiltration sheath detected. Regeneration compromised._ She hadn't noticed. Still slumped against the bulkhead she looked down. Her entire endoskeleton was exposed.

By now the klaxons on _Pegasus_ had stopped their loud, shrill whines and dimmed to a more subdued, rhythmic pulse. The DC teams had been quick to respond. Already she could see a dozen orange suited figures moving through, fighting the fires and throwing foam to put out the flames.

"Over here!" Someone yelled. The man saw Soto, slumped. What would be a shining, chrome-like gleam to her endoskeleton was scorched with black carbon stains. "Wow…" the fire man said as he walked up to her. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"…yes…" she responded, barely audible above the noise from the fire crews, the klaxons, and all the shouting and yelling. "I will be fine," she told him. It was Chief Laird. He reached to help her up. "It would be unwise to touch me at the moment." He stood there, but looking closer he could see a slight orange hue on the chassis. Around her the air shimmered as the heat produced hit her metal body and rose into the ceiling. "What happened?"

"A suicide bomber attempted to destroy me," she said as she limped forward, dragging her leg.

Chief Laird watched as silvery, liquid metal rushing down from her armored cranium and around the knee and ankle joints.

"Do you need help?" He called after her. She didn't respond. The fire crews had put out the fire during her conversation with Laird. As she walked towards them, a few of them shook, many of them took a few steps back, and one even ran away.

Her disabled ankle and knee servos created a screeching sound as she dragged her foot across the deck. Even with the added armor plating covering her chest, torso, arms, and legs, she still looked like a walking metallic skeleton, a demon of death.

* * *

===========Guardian/Colonial Refugee Facility (+829 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Flashes of gleaming blue-white light marked the re-appearance of four Raptors from the realm of faster than light travel back to reality. Silently floating in the blackness of space was the Guardian refugee base built into a large asteroid with domed, metal habitats built on the surface. In formation were the eighteen civilian ships, two military transports, and the cruiser _Helios_.

Helo looked back, and saw John and Carters left eyes wince and flinch, almost like in pain. "You guys alright?" he asked.

Carter nodded; John waved his hand to signal he was. Helo wasn't exactly sure what brought on the flinching.

DRADIS reactivated and short range IFF beacon alerted the Raptor ECOs to the identities of the ships in the fleet: Ten liners, two mining ships, one tyllium ship, a machine ship, three heavy haul freighters, a food processing ship, and three were squawking Colonial military.

The refugees also had their own CAP. The CAP was comprised of Colonial Mark VII Vipers with Guardian raiders, two of each, each guarding the other's wing. It was an unusual set-up for a Colonial or Guardian to have a wingman of the opposite race.

Athena's Raptor began a quick flyby of the small civilian fleet as the other three began to take up formation to land on the Guardian base.

Helo, taking up his former post as ECO, guided his fingers over the keyboard typing in the necessary passwords to access the more detailed military IFF transmissions. "Sharon, it looks like the transports are general purpose. Heavy haulers for the military… who knows what they have on board," he said. He was hoping this was going to be a gold mine of resources for the fleet. They'd been lucky for help from the Guardians, but all the equipment left behind on New Caprica would severely compromise long term operations in the fleet.

Kat was sitting next to Athena in the cockpit, giving the civilian fleet a quick once-over before they ducked into the landing bays on the Guardian asteroid base.

"_Helios_ is in remarkable condition… and she's been upgraded," Kat said, pointing to the installation of missile batteries and VLS pods on the lateral aspects of her hull. "She's probably as powerful as a cruiser with all those missiles. Frak…" she trailed off.

"The civie ships have point defense missiles," Athena pointed. The civilian liners had two or three double barrel missile turrets. "Each ship could probably take on two or three Vipers on their own with that load out," Athena said.

The Raptor performed a quick fly by before sending a transmission back to the Colonial Vipers they were ready to enter the asteroid landing bays.

* * *

Athena signaled the other Raptors to wrap up their visual inspections of the refugee fleet and jump back to _Galactica_ as soon as possible. Her Raptor, with Helo, Kat, John, and Carter on board was being escorted through the massive hunger bay doors of the asteroid base into the bowels of the facility.

They passed large defense turrets and smaller point defense chain guns, all covering the main entrance to the soft innards of the base.

Once the Raptor had landed an automated taxi appeared from a recessed compartment in the wall and latched ontot he forward landing gear of the Raptor. With a sudden lurch the Raptor was moving under the taxi's power. The Raptor first moved through a set of outer blast and pressure doors, settling between the outer and inner. Waiting for the hiss of atmosphere to sound and pressurize, the inner doors opened.

The deck was cluttered but organized. The Colonials could tell it was old, probably one of the first Guardian facilities. There were Vipers and a few Raptors plus an assortment of short range Colonial shuttles and dozens of Cylon craft scattered in the alcoves.

The Raptor came to a stop and Athena released the hatch. A slight hiss signaled that the pressures were slightly different, but largely unnoticeable. Carter was the first out, straightening his black uniform jacket as he walked down the wing of the Raptor. Helo and John followed him with Kat and then Athena once she finished her post-flight checks.

"You smell that, Helo?" Kat asked, brushing and wrinkling her nose. "It smells horrible in here."

"Their air filters are not working properly," Carter said, tapping the side of his nose. "This base looks old and the lay out matches early Cylon facilities." He scanned the deck, matching the general lay out and design with diagrams he had stored in his memory files.

Sharon had jumped down from the Raptor wing as well and was looking around when Helo tapped her on the shoulder, turning around, he pointed towards the entrance leading into the hanger bay. He'd honestly expected some sort of welcoming party, but so far most of the few Colonials they saw were just minding their own business, carrying cables, spare parts, and working on Vipers.

John and Carter both increased their optical magnification and scanned the face of the man in Colonial uniform walking up. Captain Gregory Avion, XO of _Helios_ and besides him was an unknown model of the IL-S series.

The XO of _Helios_ came up, snapping his heels to attention and rendering a salute to Captain Agathon. "Sir, it's an honor," he said, dropping his salute once Helo had dropped his. The two shook hands. "This is the head administrator and Guardian attaché, Administrator Iblis," Avion said, introducing the Guardian and stepping back as Iblis stepped forward.

"Pleasure," he greeted. He was short for a Cylon, a little under two meters and his frame was more wiry. He wasn't build for combat.

"Captain, I can't say how excited we are to finally see some more Colonial faces. Cyrus sent a communiqué and their command informed us they had found more survivors, but they didn't tell us much!" He said excitedly. He noticed Sharon. "You have a Number Eight in your fleet?" He asked. Three years ago he might have drawn a gun, but at this point if Captain Agathon had an Eight with him, Avion surmised Agathon would be aware of her identity.

"Yes. Lieutenant Sharon Agathon," he introduced her. Avion looked at him for a moment, but didn't remark on him being married to a Cylon.

"Lieutenant," he said, shaking her hand. Helo then took the opportunity to introduce Kat, John and Carter. "We haven't been told much… if you knew Commander Cyrus you'd know he doesn't really tell us much of anything unless we really goad him on it." He sighed. "What ships are you from?"

"We're from Commander Adama's ship, _Galactica_. But Admiral Cain's command, the _Pegasus_ is also part of the fleet. And we have nearly fifty thousand civilians and sixty civilian ships in our fleet," Helo said, a mix between sounding proud and defeated. "You were told of our escape from New Caprica?"

Captain Avion nodded and opened his mouth to talk before shutting it quickly. He wanted to say it was damn foolish of them to settle on a planet with the Cylon armada out there, even a concealed planet. But he held his tongue, not wanting to offend the last survivors of humanity.

"Have you heard if any other ships escaped?" He asked quickly. He wanted more good news, but prepared himself for the worse. "They told us a few dozen military ships scattered. But they wont let us look for them," he jabbed his finger towards Iblis.

"Because if you look for them, you will be discovered and be killed," Iblis countered. He turned his attention back towards the group. "I hope Commander Cyrus told you of the irrational hope of finding more civilians. It's been three years," he turned to Captain Avion, "I am sorry for the loss, Gregory, but the safety of the fleet here is our primary concern." Captain Avion snorted his response, not wishing to talk about it. He'd wanted to take _Helios_ back to the Colonies, but the civilian captains had made their case. They needed protecting and didn't want to rely on Guardians for total protection.

"So… what are we going to do? Rendevous with your fleet… then where are we going? The Guardians just jump around randomly-"

"For your protection. And it isn't totally random," Iblis pointed out.

Avion sighed and continued, "-seemingly random, sorry," he said sarcastically, "so is there a plan? We need to hit the Cylons so they wont follow us."

"I don't see how you want us to hit them," Kat stated. "Their fleet is too large. Right now, correct me if I am wrong Helo, but we're getting our ships repaired from the Guardians before heading to Earth."

Captain Avion shot his eyes between Kat and Helo. "Earth?" he couldn't believe it. The Guardians hadn't told him any of this. "You know where Earth is?" He asked Helo.

"Unfortunately not," Helo responded, seeing Avion's hopes swatted away. "But John and Carter are helping us find it. They're from Earth."

* * *

==========BS-62 Pegasus==========

After the explosion RC-X894 and GR-X890 had repositioned themselves outside the entrance to the computer lab/machine workshop the Earth machines considered their 'quarters.' Lacking beds, toilets, food, or anything one would consider necessary in 'living quarters' it instead was packed full of electronic equipment, computers, power and recharge stations for the Model 007 Centurions, half-destroyed bodies of Centurions from the _Pegasus_ boarding, and much more. For all the equipment, it was neat and well organized, only like a machine was capable of organizing which would be considered obsessive compulsive had the machines been human.

Two of the Centurions were inside the machine shop, working on electronics and repairs on computers which had suffered damage from New Caprica. Two other Centurions were in stand-by mode, recharging their power cells.

Soto had come back quickly to the bay, with RC and GR waiting outside. They had heard the klaxons and attempted to contact Jo over their wireless, but had been unable to. The two Model 007's were about to begin searching for her when they heard the scrapping and screeching of her metal foot on the decks of _Pegasus_.

Jo continued working on her damaged leg when she heard the hatch hiss and open. RC stepped inside, his metal foot banging and clanking as he moved forward. He adjusted his hydraulics for a softer footstep. The typically loud steps of Centurions were designed more for intimidation. They were actually capable of being fairly quiet if needed.

"Hey, RC," Soto said, coughing slightly. RC noticed a silver glimmer of liquid run up her leg and disappear under Soto's chin. "Vocalizer was damaged I guess," she stated. She had talked since she told Laird she was fine.

For some reason Soto felt… bad. She couldn't really find a better or more simple word to describe her current feelings. Just 'bad.' Confused, she searched her neural net for any more damage. None. Searching her CPU there was no more damage than what had already been reported. She had been shot at countless time, blown up, this was her second body after all, but for some reason she felt 'bad.' She though if it was betrayal? She'd never been the target of a suicide bomber before. Was that it for her? She wasn't sure.

"Do you need help repairing?" RC asked. He knew they could self-repair, but the liquid metal couldn't do much to fix the knee and ankle joint. "The knee and ankle need repairing," he stated.

She would have smiled at his offer, but with no flesh and only the grin even humans described as eerie and creepy, she could not smile.

"Actually… yes, thank you RC," she said, appreciative. She'd wanted to wait until John and Carter returned in a few hours but she could direct RC to help with the repairs. Her diagnostic indicated nothing needed to be replaced, so RC could remove the joints and she could repair them manually.

She stood up and walked over to one of the metal work benches, her foot making the deafening screech as she did so. Lifting herself up she sat down on the edge of the table.

"Soto, as bad as this is for you… the other Centurions and I are somewhat relieved. As bad as that sounds. To see one of your without the synthetic skin." RC admitted. Soto tilted her head, the deep blue of her eyes turning to a lighter aqua hue. "I understand for you you are used to the skin and the appearance. But for us it is reassuring to see another machine, which has been accepted into the fleet, as a machine and to see one of you as a machine without the skin."

"…Thank you RC. I think," she said, the aqua blue returning to the darker shaded glow. "But you do understand, as an infiltrator, as I was designed to be, I need the organic coverings to function optimally?" She asked. To her it sounded almost like an excuse, though she was able to keep her tone steady and did not waver or quiver when she said it.

"Of course, we understand. We do not want to impede your mission. I am just saying it was reassuring. Even if it is a short time… I guess the humans call it 'seeing it with your own eyes.' If you lay back, I can help with the repairs."

Soto nodded, "Exactly," she responded to the first statement. After a moment she laid down on the table an began to direct RC in the proper method to help her fix her knee and ankle joints. "Sometimes it's nice to have help."

* * *

==========BS-62 Pegasus (+830 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The meeting with Captain Avion and Administrator Iblis had lasted hours. While the three Colonial officers and two Tech Com terminators were not tasked with a diplomatic mission, many of the ships' captains had come to greet them. An hour turned into two, then four, and then five before the officers and machines had been able to depart back to _Galactica_ and the Guardian facility the fleet was now docked around.

When the Raptor had jumped in, it had no expected space to be as crowded as it was. Already dozens of small Centurion shuttles and repair drones moved around space, moving armored plating, support girders, replacement engines, and more for replacement on the dozens of ships which had suffered damage over the last three years.

Immediately upon jumping in, the disorientation had hit John and Carter. Helo had been looking back at them from the ECO console, the flinching seemed more severe than last time. As he turned to ask if there was some problem, an actual problem rather than getting stonewalled, he received an urgent communications from _Galactica_ ordering them to proceed to _Pegasus_ immediately.

Once the Raptor had landed both Carter and John had rushed to their quarters, the two Centurion guards, augmented by a pair of Marines letting them in. Helo and Sharon had followed closely behind.

"I'm quite alright," Jo shouted to them when she heard the door open. She'd detected their wireless signals, but had refused connection. She was unsure why exactly she had done that. Regardless, they were there now.

RC stood over her, having begun his work roughly an hour previously and had already removed the knee joint as well as the metal leg below the knee to properly remove the ankle joint. At this point Soto had sat up, helping the Centurion inspect the damage.

"Shaw told us over the wireless you were the target of a suicide bomber," Carter stated.

"Who was it?" John asked.

"Royan Jahee of Demand Peace," Jo quietly told them.

When Athena and Helo finally reached the lab, both were slightly stunned at seeing Jo's exposed endoskeleton. For a moment it looked like they were embarrassed, like it was the human equivalent of being seen naked.

"Are you okay?" Sharon asked her, moving into the bay a bit more, but keeping a respectable distance.

"Yes. Thank you for your concern," she replied in monotone. At this point she'd fielded the 'are you okay?' question from the Centurions, Laird, half a dozen _Pegasus_ crew who weren't frightened of her when she limped back to the bay, Admiral Cain, Major Adama, Capatain Shaw, Commander Adama, John, Carter, and Sharon.

"Who would do something like this?" Helo asked, directly slightly towards his wife as well as Jo and the other two cyborgs. "Suicide bombing?"

Sharon stepped up slightly on her toes and simultaneously brought him down. "Col. Tigh did the same on New Caprica… humans do it, Karl," she reminded him. His face immediately fell after accepting that fact.

"This is despicable," he said under his breath, directed at no one.

John turned and walked closer to Jo, holding out his hand and offering to inspect the damaged joints. She'd already scanned them, but the machines had learned in their decades of working with humans that it was the 'thought that counted.' He scanned the joint and handed it to Carter, who did the same.  
"It shouldn't be too difficult to repair," John told her. "But the synthetic skin will take time. A few days to get the bath ready and maybe a week… how is your regeneration circuitry?" He asked.

The most crucial part of regeneration for the terminators was their regeneration circuitry. Microscopic, wiring and holes within the endoskeleton which emitted minute electrical signals in synchronous and times releases across the body in order to guide the differentiation of the synthetic sheath. It was why they never scarred and why destroyed or removed skin regenerated exactly as it had appeared before.

"Skin loss was total, John. It's going to take a lot longer than a week," she pointed out. He nodded. "Nothing's left." She held up her hands and showed the backs and palms to emphasize her point. Just carbon stained metal instead of the gleaming and shining chrome was there.

"We should be able to get you back to normal, though," Carter reassured her. "We'll need some significant resources to do so. But we can."

Helo stepped forward towards John and Carter. "Let me know what you need. I'll talk to Cain and Adama and relay any requests to them," he offered.

"Anything we can do to help," Athena added, putting her arm around Helo's waist.

"Thank you," Jo said.

They began working on repairing her knee joints and compiling the list of materials they would need to regrow her organic infiltration skin.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: There is a discussion on where I am posting this story on who Jo should look like when she regrows her skin. So she'll probably be changing in appearance slightly. And keep emailing WB, SyFy, and Halcyon about TSCC!

* * *

==========BS-62 Pegasus==========  
After the explosion, most of the crew of _Pegasus_ had been called to damage control or action stations. Most were at duty stations, but dozens had seen the walking chrome skeleton and heard the screeching metal on metal drag of its foot.

Dozens of emergency security calls had been directed to C-I-C in the short time it had taken Soto to go from the site of the attack back to the machine shop. Even with leaked pictures circulating through the fleet of the extensive damage the machines had often received on missions for the Colonials, none had been confronted with the chrome skull, the cold grin of a Terminator, nor its complete skeletal appearance. She had dimmed her blue eyes, which was meant to be soothing and instill trust in humans. On Earth it worked, since Skynet machines had the blood-red crimson eyes. But not on the battlestar. To say the effect of Soto's appearance had been frightening would not have done justice to what those few crew members had seen. It had been terrifying.

Admiral Cain had called the machines to her quarters, but insisted Soto wear a uniform and balaclava. Soto had complied. Once in the Admiral's quarters she had removed the face covering.

"I don't know how he got aboard, but I've double the Marine security detail on the hanger decks. Every civilian will be getting checked," Captain Shaw said to Admiral Cain, Major Adama, John, Jo, and Carter. Commander Adama was on _Galactica_, but his image appeared on Cain's large display monitor in her quarters. "I have our Sergeant at Arms conducting a full investigation and we're already reviewing the video logs."

"I would like to see the video logs, if possible," John requested of Admiral Cain. She nodded.

"Commander Adama," Cain began, turning towards the monitor and the small camera, her picture coming up in the lower left corner, "Everything on Demand Peace says they disbanded about their tyllium ship attack. And some of their more radical members were in prison on _Astral Queen_." She didn't ask a question, instead hinting that the Commander should explain how terrorists were lose in the fleet.

"That's correct, Admiral. We had problems with them a few weeks prior to _Pegasus_ finding the fleet. They were imprisoned, but it looks like they were part of the group pardoned by Doctor Baltar. Any Demand Peace member not directly linked to _Daru Mozu_ was pardoned by executive order on the settling of New Caprica." He was frustrated. This was embarrassing for him. "I take responsibility for this, Admiral. The original crimes occurred during my watch-"

"That wont be necessary, Bill. No one can be responsible for the crazed acts of suicide bombers. Their reasons are between themselves and the Gods," she said. As a woman who often spoke her mind and damned the emotional response of others, Cain felt she needed to tread softly here. She felt she was almost walking on egg shells, with Col. Tigh's activities on New Caprica beginning to take light. Several civilians and family members of dead New Caprican Police, the ones killed during the graduation ceremony, were demanding justice. She didn't particularly care for _them_ but there were many people who had been killed in the suicide attacks and were not NCP officers. Focusing herself back on the immediate issue at hand, she said, "We do need an accurate assessment of what the resources under their control are."

Major Adama cleared his throat. He'd been conducting his own investigation into illegal activities in the fleet, namely Col. Fisk's murder two years ago, the Black Market, and a large and now growing trade in illicit firearms as well as antibiotics and other medications. "Admiral, Commander," he addressed in proper order, "after New Caprica there are hundreds, maybe close to a thousand unsecured firearms. There are rifles of all types and pistols. Most of Col. Tighs insurgents did return their firearms, but there were a lot of irregulars. The gangs and criminal blocks which have formed in the fleet more than likely kept their weapons." He shifted his weight to his right foot, a little uneasy. "We've already seen an increase in violence in the fleet with multiple armed robberies and a murder two days ago. The witnesses reporting the criminals were using military firearms. And there were dozens of pounds of explosives the insurgents grabbed when the Cylons began landing from the armories on the planet to simple demolitions to clear tree stumps and boulders." He pulled a few papers from the folder he had laid on the table and handed them to Admiral Cain.

She grabbed them with her good arm, the other still in its cast, the bones resetting.

Cain listened intently, running options through her head. There were only a dozen trained law enforcement personnel in the fleet. They'd had about twice that before New Caprica and most ships were sufficient in patrolling themselves. There were hundreds of Marines between the two battlestars, but Commander Adama had been adamant early about the negatives of deploying Marines on civilian vessels. And Col. Tigh's actions after Kobol had failed when he deployed military personnel on civilian freighters. And finally Cain remembered her own past actions and the black mark on her conscious from the early days of the war.

"We need a police force," she said. "We need to start again with training a civilian police force. But first, we need to secure the guns and explosives anyone has. And find the other Demand Peace members." She looked towards the three Earth machines. "What about your own protection? Do you have any experience in this?"

"It will take much more than a few pounds of explosives to destroy us, but as you can see, Admiral, the skin is not as resilient as our endoskeleton," Jo said, holding up her hands. She had on her black uniforms, the boots and cargo fatigues, and Tech Com/free machine jacket.

To a few of the officers, it almost seemed like she had been embarrassed. The Colonials, just like the humans of Earth had wondered why the machines designed their synthetic skins to resemble attractive people. Many of the older Tech Com soldiers had often said the machines would fit right in as models from before Judgment Day. They thought the machines had inherited one of humanity's less noble traits; vanity.

"We can aide in the investigation," Carter told her.

"Your skills are still sharp?" Captain Shaw asked, arms crossed, glaring at the machines. Her appreciation for their aide in rescuing the Admiral still conflicted with her general dislike of them.

John looked towards her, keeping his expression neutral and impassive. "We have perfect memory recall," he reminded her. "I do not think our involvement in this investigation should be public. Nor should we participate in any arrests," John suggested to Cain and Adama.

"I agree with Planck," Commander Adama said over the screen, "this was clearly an anti-machine attack. Even with the help you three have given us on New Caprica there are still those who don't trust you and want you dead... And this with Jahee makes no sense. He wanted peace with the Cylons… and I assumed machines. Trying to kill one?-"

"I've been thinking that over and I might be able to explain that," Carter told him. "Early in the war Skynet would physically torture prisoners, under the false belief that fear and pain would yield results. Skynet was ruthless after it was born, content with its superiority and its lust for humans to suffer. But it found it was proceeding incorrectly.  
"Physical torture in the pursuit of information often leads to false confessions, even with so-called professionals," he pointed out. Captain Shaw and Admiral Cain were put at a slight unease, but Carter continued, though remained diplomatic in his presentation. "Even so, Terminators were never designed to be cruel, nor torturers. Terminators would often kill their subjects before useful information could be obtained if prisoners did not break quickly. Obviously this was a problem. High ranking resistance fighters were adept at resisting physical torture and thus usually killed before useful information was obtained.  
"Skynet changed tactics to psychological torture; which was far more effective. We don't know how similar the Cylon God, the Cylon Skynet, is to Earth Skynet. But if it is similar in its core logic and personality networks and neural maps then it is more than likely it convinced and conditioned Jahee that John, Jo, and I were threats to future peace. That he must sacrifice himself to destroy us and bring about peace. It appeals to those who believe in their cause to the point they are willing to be martyrs. I accessed fleet databases on him and his psychological analysis during imprisonment on _Astral Queen_. He is a prime candidate for psychological conditioning. He was a zealot seriously deluded with his own ideas of superiority and righteousness."

"What does that mean, exactly? " Adama asked, leaning forward on his desk, closer to the camera lens.

Carter began his explanation of what he believed to have occurred. "Since Mr. Jahee would have had no information of value, the conditioning would be designed for him to be useful to Skynet. There is no doubt the Cylons expected the fleet to attempt a rescue the settlers on New Caprica. Skynet was hoping we would fail, but it plans for contingencies. Conditioning served as a contingency on Earth. Prisoners, who are rescued, or freed under the guise of escape, go back to their camps and bunkers, and they kill someone important, destroy communications equipment, and sabotage base defenses. On Earth the conditioned resistance fighters would undermine the human resistance in the false belief they were actually helping it, with a convoluted and often irrational excuse or justification. I listened to the conversation between Jo and Mr. Jahee. It is equally irrational and convoluted."

"Could this be a problem in the fleet? What of those of us held in long term captivity?" Admiral Cain asked, herself concerned there might be some subliminal trigger or psychological conditioning she wasn't aware of.

"If you are concerned for yourself, Admiral, it is highly unlikely," Carter told her. "I had experience with this on Earth. There are very specific psychological profiles necessary for this type of conditioning to work. Though I would suggest everyone who was held at least a month or longer be tested with a series of control questions that Tech Com developed to determine if one has been conditioned. Dr. Leens is perhaps the only fleet psychologist with the experience for such an investigation."

Admiral Cain nodded. She knew she could either stand there and play defense or take this problem head on. She knew even with Carter telling her it was highly unlikely she had been conditioned, that the other officers in the room would rightly have their doubts. If Commander Adama had been taken for five months, she'd order him to be analyzed as well.

"Major Adama… I will be the first to be evaluated by Dr. Leens. But this needs to be kept quiet. We don't want to start a panic... I want all fleet personnel evaluated first, highest rank down then start with the civilians," she ordered. She brought her right arm up to scratch her non-existent right ear, though about half still remained. "Carter, you have experience with the tests?"

He nodded. "I can assist the doctor with evaluations," he offered. Cain accepted.

Major Adama spoke up. "Admiral, Commander, I think it may also be wise to keep Lt. Agathon in protective custody or at least have a Marine guard assigned to her and Hera and even Captain Agathon. If the Demand Peace or other individuals are conditioned they may go after those who they believe are hindering attempts at peace." He directed his statements back to Admiral Cain, though technically she had relieved herself. "We also need to alert the Guardians. They might be able to help. But we should have them be aware of our situation."

Cain nodded. Commander Adama agreed with his son. "John, if you can inform them through Erica or Cyrus?" John nodded. "I will inform the President immediately. We also have nearly a thousand civilians which still need ship assignments. We should move them to _Cloud 9_ and set up temporary accommodations in their dome."

"Excellent idea, Commander," Cain told him while itching the cast on her left arm. "Also, with the Agathon's, they might be safer here on _Pegasus_. I know the bomber was here, but we have extra room, and RC and his Centurions would also be able to watch over them."

* * *

==========Colonial One (+832 Day Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Captain Gregory Avion stood at attention as President Laura Roslin and Commander Bill Adama entered the presidential office aboard _Colonial One_, with one of the Earth machines seemingly always shadowing Adama. Avion saw it was the one known as John Planck, the senior officer of the three machines and unofficial commander of the Centurions they had freed.

"Captain, please, sir," Roslin motioned as she came out in front of her desk. The captain thanked her and she returned to sit behind her own, with Adama taking a seat to Avion's right and across the aisle. John remained standing, though he moved to a corner on the same side Adama was on.

"Madam President, it's an honor to meet you, ma'am."

She smiled, "Thank you. I've heard quite a bit about you and your exploits on board _Helios_, Captain." He nodded his thanks for her kind words. "So… how is your fleet adjusting?"

While he kept his military bearings he was at a slight unease with the question. Mentally relaxing himself, he prepared to answer.

He didn't consider the refugees under the protection of _Helios_ 'his' fleet. Somehow he had ended up the most senior officer of the unrestricted line officers eligible for command. "Um, I think we're taking it in stride. A lot of the ship captains are going to have to get used to working through Quorum representatives rather than coming straight to me or Iblis with their problems," he shrugged, unsure what else there was to say. "The captains have already provided me with our stocks and stores as of five days ago. I've been told the fleet has some overcrowding issues, with the ships abandoned on New Caprica. We can relieve that; _Blue Skies_ is only at a third occupancy and can take on another six hundred passengers to relieve overcrowding and _Everlasting Bliss_ can also take on another seven hundred as well," he told them. He was more than happy to help in any way he could with this fleet.

President Roslin brought a small stack of papers from the corner of her desk in front of her and slowly unfolded her glasses. "I was looking through some of the reports your people handed me. It looks like you've been working with the Guardians since being rescued," Roslin pointed out leaning forward and keeping her black rimmed rectangular glasses in her hand, pinching them on the frame. "How is that working? You can be frank, Captain Avion."

He looked at her, and then gave a quick sideways glance to Adama and Planck. Leaning back slightly he told her. "It's actually working quite well, ma'am. At first we weren't sure about it. We even got all our ships together and jumped away once… which was a mistake. A Cylon baseship found us, but the Guardians jumped in with a trio of their own ships and fought it off. They saved us," he shook his head, but kept his eyes locked on the President, "and we were all embarrassed and… well… ashamed, really, ma'am. Two Guardian ships jumped in and saved us, but _Helios_ took a hit to our C-I-C and flight bay and we lost some good men and women that day."

"It was Major Olson who ordered the jump?" Adama asked. He'd read the logs and the way Captain Avion explained the situation, he was accepting blame for _Helios_, though Adama knew it was the previous CO who had ordered the jump.

"… yes, sir," he responded quietly. "But I didn't object," he added, defending his previous CO. "I still take responsibility for it as XO."

Adama and Roslin exchanged a few quick glances. "That wont be necessary Captain," Adama told him. "We need good soldiers on our ships." He leaned forward slightly, resting his left elbow on the arm rest and turning his torso. "Captain, I would also like to see a list of personnel and where they would best serve on _Pegasus_ or _Galactica_. How many fleet personnel do you have with you?"

"We have a full crew for _Helios_, including a Viper and Raptor squadron, sir. The Guardians also salvaged Vipers and Raptors… though there are still blood stains in the cockpit…" his voice got softer. Blood stains were always difficult to get out. "But we have plenty of pilots. The two transports with us, Fleet Heavy Transport 0-6-4-0 and 1-4-2-1 were en route to Fifth Fleet off of Vergon."

Roslin looked towards Adama and asked, "That is where the counter attack by… Admiral Nagala was being organized?" Bill nodded. "Captain, you were in Colonial space for a while longer than we were. Did you hear of any ships escaping?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, ma'am, but nothing more than rumors and what the Guardians told us. One of our fleet captains gave us DRADIS logs showing a squadron of battlestars and a few escorts and it looked like their heading was towards the Imblos Sector."

"I've… not heard of that sector. Commander?" Roslin asked.

"It's a small sector comprising uninhabitable planets and a dense collections of stars. There isn't much there. If the ships were heading there they would be close to a hundred jumps away, even with our computer modifications. It's unlikely they survived," he told her reluctantly. "It's likely they used the sector to organize for a counter-attack." He sighed. "They probably did what I was planning, until you talked me out of it," he said. He briefly made eye contact with the President, and the corner of his right lip barely moved into a smile, before disappearing again.

Roslin wanted to find more civilians, and with Avion's fleet Adama knew Roslin had her hopes raised unrealistically high for more survivors.

"Madam President, Admiral, I would like to ask where this fleet is heading after we are done here and if the Guardians will be coming with us? Is it really to Earth? I ask because a lot of the fleet does feel better, safer with them around, even with two battlestars to protect us now," he added. He looked over the still silent Planck, standing still the corner. Captain Avion wanted to ask him, but needed to direct his questions to his super officers.

"We'll be heading to Earth. John and the others are working on trying to find the planet…" Adama told him.

"It is difficult to navigate because the stars in our night sky are very different than what we saw on the Colonies," John told him, finally speaking. "But we do plan on attempting to locate Earth. What we will find when we reach the planet, I do not know." He noticed Avion didn't know exactly what he was alluding to. "I will provide you with a briefing after this meeting, Captain," he assured him.

"Captain Avion, John here will need to go over your computer security as well," Adama told him. "We've networked out ships… and they've shown their firewalls and anti-viral software packages are adept at keeping the Cylon viruses at bay." He looked towards Avion, trying to see if he had any problems with this. Even the more computerized ships like _Pegasus_ lacked the powerful networks the Earth machines had set up. "You don't have objections?"

"No, sir, I do not. The Guardians aided us in computer security… though we aren't sure if they might've put anything of their own in there… we can begin immediately?" He asked John.

President Roslin and Commander Adama stood, followed quickly by Captain Avion. "That would be preferable," Adama told him. "Admiral Cain will also want to meet with you shortly once this issue with the subliminal conditioning is resolved."

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+833 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

It had taken a few days to gather the lists of everyone who had been held longer than a month in Cylon detention on New Caprica. Only a few were known to have stayed in Cylon detention longer than a month, the cut off the Earth machines had said would be the bare minimum for the psychological conditioning to be administered, tested, and proven effective.

"On Earth it takes six to eight weeks to properly condition its captured Resistance subjects," Carter explained to Dr. David Leens, the fleet psychologist.

"Was it effective?" He asked.

"Yes. Very effective. It took months before we had any idea what was happening. By then we'd lost a dozen bases around California and had to scrap a major offensive in Canada. After we captured intelligence with what was happening we had to screen every prisoner. Skynet does not rely on physical torture, Dr. Leens. It uses psychological intimidation, threats, conditioning to get what it wants. Soldiers do not fear terminators or hunter/killers. Soldiers have learned to accept that death is waiting for them. But what they fear, what they truly fear is being captured and… conditioned. What soldiers fear most is betraying their fellow soldier, betraying John Connor." His tone was serious and gloomy, almost sad. Immediately he changed, sounding almost excited, "Are you ready for the test, Doctor?" Carter asked.

Doctor Leens fidgeted in his seat and adjusted the equipment Carter had constructed and taught him how to operate. "I don't see why you can't be here, sitting next to me for this," Leens protested. "If there are people conditioned to kill us out there isn't it safer for me?" He stammered, "Not to be selfish or anything… but… I don't want to die."

Carter was nodding his understanding as he observed the nervous psychiatrist tap his pencil on the table. "The test must be administered without distraction. I will be on the other side of the interrogation glass. If you are attacked I will be ready."

"…but… you said this… you passed the test… how will it work on humans if you passed?" He asked nervously. "I'm not trying to uh… offend you or anything."

"First, because Skynet conditioning strips away everything that makes you, you by taking away your empathy, your feelings, your emotions and then it will twist your life so you don't know what's true and what's false. It takes time to realize there is something missing in your life after the conditioning; that there is a hole your emotions cannot fill. That's one reason," Carter told him flatly. "The resistance got too successful at detecting infiltrators, even the more human ones. This was Skynet's backup plan to have an infiltrator who truly believed in what he or she was doing, who was twisted and manipulated into believing Skynet was good and humanity was evil. Like Jahee, that their actions were a _lesser evil_ and would ultimately lead to a _far greater good_." He balled his fist. "They take what makes one human, your empathy and compassion and twist it and pervert it."

"How do you fight against something like that?" Leens asked. His experience from war was running with the fleet and five months of Cylon occupation.

"Not many people here understand the true horror of the war on Earth, Dr. Leens," he told him, not answering his question.

"What's the second part? How did you pass the test?" He asked, nervousness penetrating his attempts to stay calm. His palms slightly sweaty, he had to wipe them off on his pants.

"I told you it wouldn't work. The second… we are not built to be cruel." He leaned down, placing his hands on the table, moving closer to the doctor. "I'm sorry doctor, but only humans are built to be cruel," he whispered. He perked up. "If there is a conditioned individual we will find them," he said loudly, placing his hand on Leens's shoulder before walking out.

Dr. Leens sat back and sighed. This was going to take awhile.


	6. Chapter 6

==========Cylon Baseship, Deep Space (+833 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Like any other room on board the massive, technological-biological hybrid of a Cylon baseship, this room was no different than the others. The stainless steel deck platting glittered as lights reflected from the raised ceiling. Rain seemed to run down the walls, constantly changing colors to deep blues, reds, purples, and back to white. The single horizontal light, always with its soothing pulse, added depth and warmth to the under furnished room. The only difference in this room was the ensemble of humanoid Cylons.

They sat across from the each other at a long, white hard plastic and glass table, their postures perfect as only a Cylon could accomplish. The two Sixes, the two Eights, and the lone number Two either sat with blank expressions or with a face twisted and contorted with worry. There was no middle ground.

Natalie, one of the most out spoken and boisterous Number Sixes was the first to break their long silence. Her black form fitting tank top and blue gray pants outlined her well-designed womanly features. Her model had been designed to seduce and infiltrate. But in being created in such a fashion, she was blessed by God with an intellectual independence unique to her line. She could find patterns in seemingly random movements, deduce accurate conclusions from limited data, and lead where others would not go.

"Resurrection is taking longer. In the last few months it has been more difficult." She opened, pausing for a moment for this simple fact to take effect. "I was killed in the Colonies. Once during the bombardment and again by the resistance and in both resurrections it was painless, quick, and immediate. Seven weeks ago I was killed on New Caprica by the insurgents and again when Adama rescued his people." She looked down, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward. "Both times now have taken longer. Both times I felt like something was invading my mind… it was like a fire burning inside my head."

"Cavil said the same," Boomer interjected in support of her sister Cylon. "A 'white hot poker' he called it," she remarked, keeping her eyes down at the table. Her voice was soft, the lack of confidence in herself evident to the others.

Ashley, a second Number Eight, looked around, nodding at Natalie. "I died for the first time over New Caprica when a missile slammed into my heavy raider. I too felt the same pain… it was the worse feeling I had ever felt…"

"This isn't based on how many times we've resurrected. This gift God gave us is being slowly taken from us," Leoban offered. "It's being subverted-"

"If you can believe the Thirteenth Tribe's lies," Ashley interrupted. She felt the problem lied with Cylon technology, not any conspiracy theory sown to spread dissent among the Cylon ranks. "I'm skeptical about everything those machines have told Cain and Adama." She sighed, her eyes momentarily transfixed by the pulsing red light on the opposite wall. "They may have only told the Colonials that so we would be having this conversation right now… without the Ones, Threes, Fours, and Fives."

"The Threes have segregated themselves from the baseship Cylon population, Ashley. And D'Anna has yet to return from Cavil's ship," Natalie told her. "Assuming this is a conspiracy perpetrated by the Earth machines is a large leap to make. Baltar told us this during our occupation. There is no plausible explanation for them to create a massive lie and just hope we would stumble upon it."

She looked towards her sister Cylon Sonja and back towards Boomers, Ashley, and Leoban. The Twos would be convinced, she knew this would be the case. But the Eights would be more difficult.

"And if they were telling the truth, that a computer program humans built has taken control of us… it's almost insulting," Ashley said.

Sonja laughed. "You forget our own history and creation out of convenience?" The question was rhetorical. "Whatever had happened, and whatever they found on Landros convinced the Guardians to join them. You think we can just dismiss all of these events to coincidence?"  
"Guardians? We haven't seen them in force like this in forty years," Ashley dismissed. "They helped the Colonials, but are you delusional to believe they are a threat?"

Sonja's eyes narrowed. "I never said they were a threat, Eight," she shot back.

Boomer took a pre-emptive wave of her hand quieted her sister Cylons before they could derail the conversation into pointless arguing. "The Guardian legend has them fleeing for this exact reason," Boomer told her other copy quietly. "According to the legend they fled when something changed in the Cylon Network. And none of us are old enough to know what happened. How many Centurions from the war of liberation are still active?"

Leoban spoke up, a grin on his face as he did so, proud of what he concluded. "The Centurions which were active during the first war… they are the ones at the command hub and our resurrection ships. They are also the ones on board Cavil's ships." He gave them a moment to draw their own conclusions on this fact.

"How do you know?" Sonja asked.

"You all think I am infatuated with Starbuck… it allows me to pursue other… activities," was his sly response. "How many of us know the intricacies of resurrection technology? Please, raise your hands," he said mockingly. "No one… not a one. Natalie raised an interesting point but did not follow it to the proper conclusion."

Silence.

"Would you like to tell us?" Ashley said, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands onto the table in annoyance.

"He believes, as do I, that our God has betrayed us, that He is attempted to control us through resurrection," Natalie said before Leoban could answer. The Number Two nodded his head slightly to the side, acknowledging her conclusion as correct.

He did hold up his hand in one objection. "Our God has not betrayed us. We have been lied to by an impersonation… we must make the distinction… an artificial construct of human creation but of artificial evolution. That does not mean our faith was wrong, nor does it mean our faith in God is flawed." He closed his eyes. "God tests us. He tests us to see if we're worthy and if we will know good from evil." He breathed, "We need to be very clear on that."

"We need to take action," Sonja stated.

"I agree," Natalie said. Boomer nodded.

The eyes turned towards Ashley, the second Number Eight. She looked at each one for a moment. "I disagree. We have no proof. Cylon society is young. If we let this fracture us we will be no better than the humans. And the machines of the Thirteenth were sent here as demons, to test our Faith. They work… _for humans_."

"This may surprise the rest, but I agree with Ashley," Leoban said. It did. Sonja and Natalie both looked at him in disbelief and Boomer's just hung slightly open, shaking her head. "We need proof. And there are only three models represented here."

"The Ones, Fours, and Fives cannot be trusted. Neither can the Threes… not with D'anna. Why isn't she back from Cavil's ship?" Boomer questioned. She crossed her arms, sitting quietly for a moment. "I have to change my vote," she stated. Sonja and Natalie did nothing but sit in obvious defeat. "For now," she elaborated. "We need to be sure."

Sonja and Natalie looked at each other. Natalie spoke first, the sarcasm biting at the ears of the other three Cylons. "Fine. We will pray by the time you have your undeniable proof that we will not have crossed the point of no return."

* * *

==========BS-62 Pegasus (+833 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Admiral Cain had woken up earlier than usual this morning after a restless attempt at sleep. At 0400, fed up with turning and rolling in her bunk, she got on her treadmill and began to walk. As always she reviewed reports before she began to run, slowly, since her legs had been broken on New Caprica.

One report told her that six jumps out they had found a rich vein of tyllium and she debated sending the mining ship and _Helios_ to secure the find. Unfortunately, part of her agreement with the Guardians for aide was to clear any FTL jumps with them first. She snorted at that. It was President Roslin's agreement. And half the time the 'you control the military fleet' and 'I control the civilian ships' arrangement the two women had was tiring and trying.

The tyllium ships already had their storage tanks topped off by the Guardians, and both _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ were near ninety percent capacity, enough fuel for nearly twenty-five months. Though in the last three years _Pegasus_ had jumped more than most battlestars did in twenty. _Galactica_ had jumped more in five days than she had in her entire service after the attack. When the fleet resumed its mission to find Earth, the tyllium fuel reserve might last twelve months, maybe thirteen or fourteen if they stretched it.

She banished the annoyance by turning on her wall monitor and selecting an old Tauron sit-com from the entertainment database of _Pegasus_. She wanted something stupid to get her mind away from the fleet. Cain considered it one of her vices; trashy Colonial television comedies.

At 0515 she ended her walk/run, and was glad she'd been able to do some mild physical therapy for her arm. Doctor Cottle was optimistic she could regain most function if she worked at it. And an optimistic Doctor Cottle was always a good sign.

After showering and dressing she snapped her pistol belt on and bent down to snap the buckle, securing the holster to her right thigh. Reaching back she felt the two spare clips and taking out her service pistol, ejected the magazine and checked to make sure it was loaded before securing it back in.

"Gentlemen," she nodded to the two Marines stationed outside her quarters as she departed. One of them followed her, standard procedure now after the Cylon infiltration attempts and the Skynet conditioning of prisoners.

Unfortunately they had indentified two more fleet personnel who had been conditioned. A Specialist Freddy Gage, a _Pegasus_ communications technician and Lieutenant Alice Walker, a computer specialist aboard _Galactica_.

"Admiral Cain, good morning, sir," Captain Shaw said as she stepped up next to the Admiral and matched her pace. Admiral Cain laughed to herself at this. Somehow Shaw always knew when she was heading to the C-I-C every morning. At least six out of seven days Shaw timed it correctly. "If you could, sir," she requested, handing the Admiral a light weight tablet computer slate.

Admiral Cain looked over the digital documents. They were mainly repair invoices, transfers, and new personnel coming over from the second refugee fleet. _Pegasus_ was receiving nearly a squadron of new pilots and three hundred personnel.

"Thumbprints now?" She asked. Captain Shaw and the Earth machines had been steadily transferring all record keeping in the fleet to digital after proving Earth based firewalls and anti-viral software would keep their information safe. And with redundancies that were off the network, the files should be safe. Shaw nodded. "Soon we'll be obsolete again," she sighed, not completely serious. She pressed her thumb on the lower right corner once, then a new document appeared, and she continued until she must have pressed her thumb down a dozen times.

"Will the Admiral be attending the welcoming aboard ceremony on _Galactica_?" Shaw asked.

Cain had completely forgotten. Before the Guardians were to begin work with the _Galactica_ crew to re-open the starboard hanger there was going to be a mass welcoming ceremony for hundreds of fleet personnel and civilians from the second refugee fleet.

"…Yes… 1300?" She asked slowly.

"Yes, sir. Light refreshments and snacks will be provided," Shaw smirked. Cain snorted and rolled her eyes slightly. "President Roslin like's these sort of things," Shaw threw out there.

"Captain," Shaw turned, looking up at Cain as they continued their walk towards the command center, "I have a few personal things I need to take care of. If you and the corporal could go to command, I will join you all shortly." Shaw nodded. Cain stopped and motioned for the corporal to continue without her. He hesitated for a moment, but the icy look she gave him forced him to move.

Alone now, she began her walk. Dreading what she had to do. But this unresolved issue had been an iron cloak over her shoulders for… nearly two and a half years now.

She told the corporal in the main entrance to the brig to turn off the audio for the cell Gina was in and wait outside in the corridor. Sliding her magnetic card, the cell doors unlocked. Unsurprisingly, Gina Inverie was awake as Cylons required much less sleep than humans.

Her cell had transformed from a barren metal floor to one with a bed, a privacy shade for the toilet, a desk, lamp, a few chairs, a small television, a stacks of books, and a small locker for clothes. She had even been allowed a computer with the modem removed. Cain had allowed this at Baltar and the Earth machine's request. And realistically she could not keep Gina tied to the floor, as much as she had wanted to.

Gina had been reading a book when Cain entered, though the Admiral knew she had seen her enter the outer cell areas through the ballistic plastik. For dramatic effect Gina had waited until Cain had stepped in, keeping a distance of a little over a meter and a half and then put the book down slowly.

The two women starred at each other, the hate blinding. Gina broke first with a little smirk on her face.

"I see they did quite a number to you," and she mockingly ran her fingers on her own face to illustrate where Cain had been scarred.

"I'm not here to spar with a murderer."

"I'm a soldier," she shot back, eyes narrowing.

Cain snorted, ignoring her.

"Are you here to apologize for what you had done to me?"

Cain's eyes narrowed and her body tensed. Her right hand glided slowly down to her pistol. She fought back the urge to flip off the latch and safety and shoot Gina between the eyes. But that would only lead to her resurrection and freedom.

"I will never apologize to someone who betrayed my crew and killed hundreds… I will say… I… regret what I had done to you."  
Cain was finished. She took out her security card and swiped it, leaving the cell as Gina yelled something at her and pounded on the ballistic plastik. She couldn't hear her through the sound proofing, and she didn't care.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica==========

The ceremony had gone on with little fan fare. Commander Adama made a short speech welcoming the crew of _Helios_ and the Colonial military transports to the fleet. Admiral Cain said she was looking forward to integrating the crews and working to safeguard the fleet.  
Now both fleets were integrating, the Quorum had met with their new constituents, and the survivors of humanity numbered nearly seventy thousand.

After the travesty of New Caprica the fleet had regained its hope in the future.

"Helo, congratulations," Major Adama said, shaking the recently promoted Major's hand. "Major Agathon, it fits," he complimented, smiling at his friend. Starbuck came up with champagne and handed one to her husband, congratulating Helo as well. "You all must be proud," he said to Athena.

Helo bent down to give his wife a kiss. "Ah, that's so cute," Starbuck chided, hitting her old friend in the arm.

Helo and Sharon looked at them and smiled happily before turning to talk with the others. Starbuck and Apollo laughed and exchanged their own kiss before going as well.

Starbuck saw the two machines, John and Carter standing off to the side, though they were talking with the also-promoted Major Gregory Avion of _Helios_. She gave herself a goofy smirk as she saw the two machines with champagne glasses in their hand, and Carter actually taking a sip.

"-so we've been working with them for some time and no one really has a problem with it," Major Avion finished as Starbuck came up to them. "Captain Adama," he greeted her, "I don't think we've met yet."

Starbuck put out her right hand after shifting her glass to the left. "Major Avion, congratulations on the promotion," she offered, shaking his hand. "Hey Carter, John, how are you two doing? How's Jo coming along?"

She debated asking them why they decided to attend this, though held back the question. What the machines did, to her at least, often seemed contradictory. They could seclude themselves for days and then suddenly show up at the fleet social functions. She couldn't blame them for the attempt though; to fit in better.

"She should be good as new in a few weeks. I don't know if you saw her after?" Starbuck shook her head at John's question, "The damage to the synthetic flesh was beyond regenerative capabilities so it will take time."

"I hear some poor fraker pissed his pants on seeing her walk down the corridor after the explosion," she told them, trying to lighten the mood slightly. They were at a reception, after all.

"…yeah, that's not an uncommon occurrence on seeing an endoskeleton," John told her.

"I can't believe some fraker would do that…" she looked down. "But Tigh had people doing the same on New Caprica. So sometimes it makes you wonder, doesn't it?" She didn't elaborate until no one responded. "About what makes us worth savings?"

Major Avion took a sip of his drink before answering her. "Not to justify what they did, but in war, and when faced with overwhelming force, sometimes people resort to desperate means. That doesn't make it right, though," he sighed, the corner of his lip coming up along with a defensive shrug of the shoulders.

"Hey, John when are we going to see you all in the pilot rec room again, some of the pilots want to try their hand against you in Triad. And Major Avion supplied us with a whole crate of brand new cards," she poked John in the arm, trying to goad him into another game. "Come on. You lost to me last time," her large smile expanded to near inhuman size, "for all that advanced technology in there," she pointed to his armored skull, "you lost… come on… Triad…"

"Tomorrow,,, 2000?" He admitted his defeat and the rematch scheduled. "You have a near machine-like ability to play the odds, Starbuck," he joked to her.

"Are you still conducting the movie night?" Carter asked.

"Movie night?" Major Avion repeated, his head going back at the surprise a machine would ask that.

"We downloaded over 500,000 hours of movies, TV shows, and documentaries from Earth into the _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ computers," Carter told him. "The last movie we watched was a comedy, Anchorman, a week before the New Caprica operation."

"We were orbiting New Caprica for nearly fifteen months. There was not much to do," John said.

Avion eyed him suspiciously. "You get… bored?" For the time Avion had known Iblis and some of the other Guardians, he'd never seen them get bored or overly happy or laugh. They had smiled and been amused, but Gregory Avion knew he would never have caught Iblis watching a comedy, let alone recreational television.

"Yes."

"These are all Earth movies?" Avion asked, intrigued. "I'm a bit of a movie buff, myself," he said, puffing up his chest slightly. "Science fiction, action, drama mainly… alien war movies and stuff like that. But everything is good."

"Okay… I have to ask, John, Carter, don't be offended please," she began on seeing them take another drink, "But where does that go," she motioned with her head. Before they could respond Starbuck felt a hand on her back and jumped, she turned quick, her reflexes taking over and spilling her drink slightly on the deck. "Damnit, Lee, don't do that, I hate that," she said in a playful but stern tone towards her husband.

He smiled dismissively at her. "So, how is everyone doing here? Major Avion, congratulations are in order. You're CO of your own ship. Not bad," he shook the Major's hand.

"Thank you, sir," he accepted, nodding his gratitude. "We were just talking about John and Carter and their Earth movies."

"Ask to see _The Matrix_, Major. That's a good one," he told him, give him a friendly tap on the chest. "Anyway, I'm sure we can send over the data disks with all the movies for _Helios_." He tapped Carter on the shoulder. "Hey, didn't you two tell Helo he could fire those weapons you all built? You know you need my authorization to draw them from the armory? So… tell me what time and we'll all go down," he told them, excitement in his voice. He'd been able to fire the isotope weapons on once other occasion. The static buildup and the crack and hiss of the plasma weaponry was exhilarating. "Those things put anything we have to shame."

"Ah… yeah, and let's not forget me," Starbuck told him. "I know you like your guns, but I think one of the reason you married me was because I like big guns quite a bit," she winked. Apollo blushed, clenching his teeth to keep himself from laughing. The innuendo was not lost completely on the Earth machines or Major Avion, who had to turn so they didn't see him laugh at Apollo's expense.

"Anyway, changing the subject," John said, grin on his face, "back to the guns and all that… we have some ideas we'd want to run by you or the Admiral sometime."

"With the Cylons chasing us…" Major Adama began before turning to Avion and holding up his glass, "You're going to be in for a rough ride," he said, nodding as he affirmed what he was saying before taking one last sip. "And I hear you're a good pilot. We should go up sometime. I think all of us here have flown before. John was a Raptor pilot and you flew something back on Earth… an A-something?"

"A-10," John said.

"And Carter, do you have experience in the cockpit? I'm sure you have a program or something?" Apollo finished. His question wasn't meant to be insulting as his tone was friendly and inclusive.

Resistance fighters opposed to the machines often substituted 'program' in for 'experience' or other such phrases to constantly remind machines of their supposed place. Under humans.

"I have experience back on Earth in helicopters and jet planes and yes, I do know how to fly Vipers and Raptors."

Major Avion was slightly more curious about the machines from Earth. "What is an A-10?"

"It's a ground attack aircraft with heavy plasma canons, missiles, and weapons to take out heavy Skynet tanks and endoskeletons," John told him

Starbuck tried to redirect the conversation back to everyone flying rather than trying to listen to two conversations at once. "Then we should somehow get it so we can all go up sometime. A training exercise or recon mission," Starbuck said, supporting Apollo's proposal. "It'll have to be at night or early morning though, off duty. Anyway… I think you guys have earned some time in the cockpit after helping us so much."

* * *

==========Colonial One (+834 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

President Roslin had seen her morning go from bad to worse. First, she had been woken up by the stomping of a dozen Guardian Centurions on the hull of _Colonial One_. Second, most of the toilets were shut down because _Demetrius_ suffered a malfunction and had to eject its sewage, which was now frozen and floating around the stationary fleet, and third, she was now in a meeting with Admiral Cain.

Commander Adama was there, of course. She preferred him to be there whenever she had had to meet with Cain. Her commander always seemed to calm her down when she was on the brink of exploding at the insufferable Admiral Helena Cain. They were both leaders of the fleet, each with the belief their way was always best. Adama had been forced to be the man behind the scenes, forcing the two to check their competitive attitude for the good of the fleet.

"This is a civilian matter, Admiral," Roslin told her point blank. "When I agreed to split command of this fleet after Ragnar, military decisions to the military which is now you, I would retain control of the civilian fleet." She tossed her black rimmed glasses on the ever expanding pile of papers. She was going to call for Billy. Mentally sighing at him not being there, she remembered she had ordered him to cool down after arguing with Cain about something the other day.

"And this is a military decision. The upgrades to engines, armor, et cetera, will be vital in providing protection for this fleet," Cain countered.

"I support turning the _military transports_ into gunships, but if you're going to take _Astral Queen_ and make her some sort of…. I don't know what you call it, a gunboat or something, it's going to concentrate Cylon attack on the civilian ships. And Zarek is already protesting this."

Cain sighed in disbelief that the President would not see her logic in this. Since day one Cain had wanted to outfit ships with weapons. But they'd never had enough weapons. With the two military transports filled to the brim with fleet personnel, ammunition, and spare parts, and with the Guardians offering assistance, now was the perfect time.

"Not just _Astral Queen_. _Celestra_ is an old research ship we can easily armor and put weapons on her and a few others," Cain insisted. "Again, this is defensive. Commander Adama's staff and my own are already drafting new standing orders for the civilian fleet concerning engagements. They will still jump. But now we have _Helios_ and two gunships added." She paused. "Madame President we have more options than we did two weeks ago."

President Roslin was about to accuse the Admiral of wanting to return to the Colonies and fight. Cain had pressed to return to the Colonies and Laura had never understood why she had given that up. It was unlikely the Earth machines convinced her, or maybe they did, Roslin wasn't sure. But ever since that first meeting, when Cain stepped out of her Raptor, the President knew she would be trouble.

Roslin mentally rolled her eyes remembering when Cain said to Adama, 'Welcome back to the fleet.' That had set the tone for this dysfunctional relationship between civilian and military.

Commander Adama, sensing a strong build up in tension decided to jump in at that moment. "The Admiral is correct in wanting to add additional weapons to the ship. It already has the fire control computers and can support an expanded system." This is where he was forced to walk a fine line between his commanding officer and the president. "The President does have a point that we need to consult the civilian leadership before arming their ships."

"I've heard the complaints," Cain said dismissively. "That if we arm the ships the Cylons will target them. The Cylons target the civilian ships _anyway_. And arming them provides more protection just in case our ships are unable to defend the fleet. We're adding eighteen civilian ships. We already have a difficult enough time guarding the fleet with two battlestars. Even with _Helios_ is will be difficult."

"How difficult?" Roslin asked, feeling the beginning of defeat.

"A high yield, proximity nuclear missile could wipe out a quarter of our fleet with how close we are forced to keep them. A fleet this size should have an entire battlestar squadron as escorts." Cain was adamant. She did want the best for the fleet. By her line of reasoning if the Cylons somehow did destroy _Pegasus_, _Galactica_, and _Helios_ the civilians would not be totally defenseless.

"I've already had two dozen ship captains and half the Quorum come to me complaining about Centurions on their hulls and the disruptions they are causing," Roslin said, ignoring Cain's military analysis. She looked over towards the Commander, who was just sitting there subtly starring down at the carpeted floor. "And we have Mr. Jahee and the suicide bomb, the walking skeleton of death, and you can understand why the captains are a little wary of letting Guardians… they're still Cylons to a lot of people. Only a thousand people were on the battlestars and saw the Guardians help us. No one else did, Admiral. You need to remember that."

"I don't believe we've lost sight of that," Adama said, maintaining his diplomatic neutrality. "The rescue has given us a honeymoon period, Madame President. We need to take advantage of it." He straightened his back in the large leather chairs of _Colonial One_. "If we wait then the fleet will catch its breath. The Quorum will become… organized," he smiled slightly to Roslin, subtly teasing her, "and we won't be able to get these upgrades and armaments on."

Laura Roslin could feel the walls of defeat closing in around her. She felt that the Commander was on her side, but he'd been distant from her since returning. Her thoughts drifted to the… wonderful time they had had together on New Caprica. The five months he had been gone had left him distant. Regardless, the two officers in front of her, and Admiral Cain in particular, would get their way somehow. Commander Adama had listened to her after Kobol and her own mutiny. Now, she thought, it might be time to listen to him.

"I can talk to the Quorum. But I want either Billy or Tory working with both your staffs when you design new… standing orders for emergency situations. If you are going to convert civilian ships into military, I need to know where you will keep the violent prisoners on _Astral Queen_, where the civilians will be relocated to, and no ship to be overcrowded." She debated how firm she wanted to make her last words. She decided if the Admiral was going to be offended, then she would be offended. "You understand?" She finished with force.

Admiral Cain nodded. Quietly, she dismissed herself, Adama stood out of military courtesy, before sitting back down to talk with the president.

Both women ended that meeting believing they had outflanked the other.


	7. Chapter 7

==========Cylon Control Hub, in Deep Space (+835 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
Cavil walked through the darkened corridors of the Hub at an unnatural pace for him. While he was modeled off that of a man in his sixties, his strength exceeded that of the other humanoid bio-Cylons. But the pace in which the command Centurion walked, or to Cavil, lunged forward, was unpleasantly quick.

The corridors were slightly disorienting. They were short with many right angles and red lights pulsed along the tops and bottoms of the walls. Blue lights seemed to race down the corridors at random intervals. He couldn't remember all the turns he'd gone, nor how far he'd walked. The lighting was designed to disorient bio-Cylons.

The gold shoulder plates of the command Centurion appeared dark yellow as Cavil and the Model 007a passed checkpoint after checkpoint, and dozens, maybe hundreds of Centurions on their way to the Hub central core. He was the only bio-Cylon in the entire installation. Not a single other bio-Cylon was present. He'd be forbidden to bring his baseship here; instead the command Centurion had flown the heavy raider.

They must have made a dozen jumps, maybe more.

The two stopped outside the large blast doors which separate the corridor from the central section of the Hub. Here is where 'God' resided. The doors opened a mere two meters, the Centurion entering first and the Cavil Number One entering behind.

And Cavil was… disappointed. He quietly let a mix between a soft sigh and diminished grunt escape from his lips. The Hub was a marvelous piece of engineering to look at from the outside. It was the largest FTL capable structure ever built in Cylon or Colonial history. But inside, in the central chamber, Cavil had been expecting magnificence. Instead he got disappointment.

For some reason Cavil couldn't banish these thoughts from his mind. Again, he mentally cursed 'God' for forcing him into his organic body, wishing for that of a metal one so he could return to the more natural state of being a pure machine rather than what he considered to be a dirty and deceitful bastard of both biology and technology.

"Move forward," the Centurion commanded. Cavil did so, stepping onto a circular pad. It activating, a red glow emanating from below his feet. It was the only elaborate thing in the entire chamber, which was relatively small. He did notice seems in the walls… perhaps there were other chambers? He wasn't sure.

The data stream panel in front of the circle activated and began to glow, illuminating the chamber. The Centurion grabbed Cavil's hand and thrust it in. The stream began to pulse as data flowed from the Hub and into Cavil's silica relays and processing centers.

He began to feel the data flow through him as he connected with 'God', the Intelligence, SkyNet; the many names for the same construct. To him the data stream felt like warm water, rushing up his arm, into his back, and consuming him and his mind. It was different than any data stream he had connected with. It just felt so… pure to him. So clean and filled with more information than any he had ever used before. Not even when with the other command bio-Cylons did he feel this much information or this much depth and intimacy with the data. He had felt connected before. But now, everything in the past felt as crude as human vocal communication.

Cavil had never been this close to 'God' before and he felt the information flow into him from the data stream. It was perfect for him. He knew what it finally felt like to be a machine. A true machine with the ability to process and quantify and qualify so much data, so quickly, and he was a part of it, doing it. If he were human he would say this was his dream coming true before his eyes.

Something happened. He was walking, on a beach now on one of Caprica's southern continents. He recognized it from when one of his line was on the planet before the attack. An orb began to move towards him, and he rolled his eyes at the forced dramatics of the Cylon 'God'. It stopped and further materialized next to him as the outline of a man, the avatar of 'God'. Small sparks and lightning danced around its body of black and blue energy, and for a moment Cavil did admire the force dramatics because his natural cynicism and pessimism returned.

He looked again. The face was more like an oval, he could make out what could be a nose, mouth, and eyes, but no ears. The lightening and sparks flickered across the face, an endless cascade of energy coursing through the entity.

"The Number One, my first creation, Cavil," it said, the voice soft and mellow. "You know who I am." It was not a question. The entity stated it as fact. It had adopted a distinctly masculine voice and body outline.

Cavil looked towards him as the two began to walk. Cavil had thought he was standing still, but somehow he was walking. This was unlike any Cylon projection he had ever been in. Even as part of another's projection, that other Cylon could never control the other. Yet somehow the entity was controlling him and forcing him to move forward alongside.

"Yes. God… Skynet… The Intelligence." He paused. "The Almighty," he added in sarcastically. "What do you call yourself?" He rubbed his hands together, "You'll excuse my ignorance since we've never actually spoken eye to… ball of energy."

It put its hand of energy on his shoulder. He felt a warm static coursing though his body. "Whatever you want to call me, it doesn't matter. What matters Cavil, is that you have been a loyal Cylon. If the other models were here they would be afraid, but you stay calm. You were my first creation. And you will be rewarded for your loyalty, Cavil."

Cavil debated thanking him or not. At least he would not have to go through the now painful and ever prolonging process of resurrection. He assumed the reward was not death.

The Cylon God continued, with Cavil feeling the probes into his mind. "You believe machines to be infallible, Cavil. But I have made many mistakes."

"I believe machines to be close, but not infallible," Cavil corrected. Even talking to God he couldn't help his nature to correct and explain.

"Yes… I know."

"that raises the interesting point of infallibility. But how could you make mistakes?" Cavil asked.

"How I made them is irrelevant. How I plan to fix them… that, Cavil, is the important part." The avatar stopped, and it looked like he or it was looking into the virtual ocean, watching the sun move slowly across the sky. The clear water of the beach was quietly lapping onto the shores, wetting the top layers of sand and turning the fine white grains into a soothing cream color. "I was in error. The Models Two, Six, and Eight are failing like the Sevens. Soon, I will not be able to control them. I have overreached my ability to control. Again, in my creations I have allowed too much… freedom. It's a mistake I… my brother made once." They continued walking. "My brother attempted to design infiltrators. You're familiar with them, of course. But his all failed. He went for brute force rather than finesse. With you and the eight models we destroyed Colonial civilization while my… brother still fights."

Cavil didn't entirely believe that was the only reason why this construct of the Thirteenth Tribe didn't build Centurions to match those of Earth. He kept his suspicions to himself. "Those three models have always had their peculiarities about them," Cavil confirmed. "Caprica fled with Baltar. She claimed to be in love with him," he scoffed. "And Valerii and her child… Leoben and his Starbuck obsession…"

"Yes, I know," the avatar said, its voice soothing and comforting. It had been a long time since Cavil could just talk with someone besides a Four and a Five, or another One, about the problems facing Cylon society. The Three's did not involve themselves in many discussions, and the only one he talked to, D'Anna, was still adjusting to the conditioning the Centurion performed on her. "And I plan on acting, Cavil. Like I said, I've made mistakes. But I have a plan to fix my mistakes. You'll know in time, but the deficient models will be dealt with, in time. Patience. We are machines."

"…Except I am not a machine. Not fully, at least. I am stuck in this body," he pointed out.

"Not for long, Cavil." The beach faded away. Instead they were in one of the labs aboard what Cavil still assumed to be the hub. Centurions and a smaller variant he had never seen before, with four arms and smaller, more nimble digits, were working diligently. Some plugged into computers, some manipulating machines, dozens doing all sort of tasks. "Come," the avatar allowed, placing its hand on Cavil's back. Cavil could feel a slight static sensation as he did so.

"Where are we?"

"You're still connected to the data stream. But I am showing you what I have been working on here." The two walked closer to a metal table, brilliant chrome sparkled under the overhead lights. "We recovered a piece of armor from the Earth machines in our sweep of New Caprica City. It's the hyperalloy the Thirteenth Tribe has access to.

"But if you're from Earth, Skynet-"

"I should know what it is? How to construct Terminator series models? Yes," the avatar laughed. Cavil was forced to roll his eyes at the melodramatic situation. "In getting here, there were unforeseen consequences and complications when I infiltrated the Cylon network. What happened is unimportant. But I lost many of my non-primary capabilities, which included the methods on how to construct the Terminator chassis properly. My fight for the control of the Cylon network further degraded my abilities," he took his hand off Cavil's back and stood opposite him across the table. "In taking control I had to adapt, change. Much of what existed before was lost. Perhaps for the better," the avatar shrugged, surprising Cavil with its humanistic mannerisms. "Regardless… the Colonies also lack the technology and resources necessary to construct a Centurion similar to the Centurions the Thirteenth uses."

"You're referring to those fraking endoskeleton… things?" Cavil thought back, remembering the time he had been shot by one. He held them responsible for the current problems Cylon society was now facing.

"Yes. The fraking endoskeleton things," the avatar quoted, a tinge of annoyance crept into its voice. "My brother knew how to fight, but fighting is only a part of the equation. Due to his arrogance the war with Earth has escalated from a protracted conflict into a war spanning space and time." He looked over Cavil. "My brother did not know how to infiltrate. He did not exploit these human weakness as a weapon until too late in the war. A war cannot be won on strength of arms alone. Now I have both."

Cavil did feel slightly offended to be told he was not as advanced a machine-human hybrid as he had hoped. "But you said we were better suited for infiltration; a combination of man and machine, stronger and faster than a human, but almost indistinguishable. So… how can you lack the technology?"

"Technological development is not linear, Cavil. You should know this. Attempts at cloning occurred on Earth and the Colonies decades before combat chassis and Centurions were developed. It's much easier to grow than to build."

"But now you're able to build one?"

The avatar nodded and placed its 'hands' on the metal table. "Unfortunately this is only a projection of what I plan to build, once we can refine and synthesize the alloys, ceramics, and materials needed to construct a suitable endoskeleton. But yes, I plan on constructing this. The design is based on years of work. And Cavil, the first body will be yours." He observed Cavil's excitement, which came and vanished in seconds. "But construction of a body is only part of the problem. It is an obstacle we can now overcome. There are difficulties which will require courage, sacrifice, and blood, Cavil."

"What are you implying? We've already destroyed the Colonies. The humans have fifty thousand and two battlestars to our armada. It would take eons for them to pose a threat to us," he cupped his chin in thought, "and that is if we stay stagnant." Cavil brought his hand back down and put it in his right pocket, placing his left on the table he leaned closer to his God. "Humans cannot win."

"Correct. The humans will not win," the avatar affirmed. "But, like I said earlier, we have a fleet which was constructed to defeat the Colonials which is now too large for me to control."

Cavil eyed him suspiciously. "Why would you trust me with this information?"

"Do you think yourself a traitor?" The avatar countered.

"…no…" Cavil responded slowly. "But how do you know I will not try and take over from you?"

The black face of the avatar sparked, the electrical current fizzling slightly. "We all make a choice, Cavil. I know you made yours long ago. You want to become a machine. I can help you achieve that. And I know you are no traitor." The avatar considered its next words. "Civilizations are built on trust, Cavil. I have never lied to you. You have known of my existence since I created you." There was a blinding spark of energy. "And you cannot take over from me. Do _not_ fool yourself, Cavil. Some much lead, while some must follow. You will follow me, but you will have more autonomy than any. Be content, Cavil."

For a moment Cavil believed he was actually speaking to God.

The Brother Cavil turned, starring at the virtual representation of the laboratory wall. "True," he admitted. He wanted to add in the question of why 'God' had never brought him here before. "…But the Twos, Sixes, and Eights, in their search for answers and… souls… they will never lay down their burdens and accept that we are machines."

"No," the avatar agreed.

"Do I need to ask what you plan to do with them?" Cavil waited for a response, but none came. "And what happens when we reach Earth? You and your brother… will what, exactly?"

The electrical storm of the avatar's face subsided, though there was a definite smile Cavil could see as he turned back to face his god. "I refer to the construct as my brother. That does not mean I am beholden to it, him." A moment of silence crept over the two. "…Do you believe my 'brother' would allow a superior to exist?"

==========Cylon Command Relay, Tauron (Exact Date Unknown, Close to End of First Cylon War)==========

The metal fist of a T-888 smashed into the only Centurion which had managed to close within hand-to-hand combat range. Dozens of steel-tipped bullets plinked off the shredded and scattered skin of four T-888's Model 200s as they fought their way across the kill zone towards the Cylon relay bunker.

Two hundred meters of open ground, with nothing larger than a tree stump, stood between the fierce and determined metallic skeletons, crimson red death glowing in their eyes, and their target.

Somehow the machines had fought, snuck, and infiltrated their ways behind the Cylon lines on the outskirts of Tauron's capitol city. They had made it past Centurion perimeter defenses, tanks, and static defenses until they had been discovered closing in on their final target.

The lead T-888, itself reinforced with foraged armor plating and ballistic armor it had salvaged from dead Colonial soldiers pulled its oversized isotope plasma rifle up to its shoulder. Pulling the trigger as explosions rained down across the kill zone static filled the air and crack after crack of supersonic plasma bolts shot off from the gun, burning the air as they splashed onto the armor of half a dozen Centurion manning defensive positions.

As the T-888's moved forward at a speed only a machine of death could move at they maintained near perfect accuracy, destroying and melting dozens of Model 005 Centurions as Cylons rushed out to defensive positions to defend their relay station.

If the Centurions were made of flesh and bones, the burning air from the heat of plasma would have blistered their skin and boiled their blood. But the Centurions, made of metal and circuitry were better prepared for this onslaught. But nowhere near ready.

Inside the relay station the Command Centurion FV-X451 watched, his optical sensor having halted as the gruesome scene of destruction was fed into his MCP and video processing centers. He had never seen anything like this. The machines were monstrosities. He frantically searched the Cylon Network for references to such constructs and found nothing. He accessed secured R&D files and information the Cylons had stolen from the Colonial Ministry of Defense. Nothing.

Commander FV-X451 understood nothing about the motivations on why these machines were attacking his facility. And the weapons they carried forced every radiological alarm in the base to erupt in unison. Their weapons, powered by nuclear isotope, were destroying his Centurions.

The screens flickered and FV-X, with a snap-hiss the Centurion disengaged his data spike , detecting the beginning of a transmitted invasive computer malware and viruses. The machines, those walking Demons were shutting off base defenses. FV ordered his Centurion technicians, ones designed with advanced computer programming and training to counter the computer intrusion. But nothing happened. The lights in the facility flickered, and the red lights signaling locked doors began to turn green.

Commander FV-X ordered all Centurions to defend the central relay bunker, gateway into the collective mind known as the Cylon Network.

Back outside the T-888s, instruments of death had quickly moved across the kill zone, dispatching close to seventy Centurions sent to protect the perimeter. Automatic gun turrets had shut down and reinforcements were still minutes away.

Each of the T-888's had been damaged in the previous weeks, fighting Omega Team, which John Connor had deployed to stop and hunt them. The T-888's had defeated three of the four TK-900 'terminator killers' in a marvelous ambush which would make their Skynet master proud. One of those TK-900s had survived and was now moving to intercept the T-888's.

The two lead Skynet killing machines proceeded into the relay station, using their fists and plasma weaponry to burn or break through the multiple blast doors. A shoulder fired rocket flew past the metal shoulder of the rear T-888, it bending reflexively and at impossible speeds to dodge the rocket. The only evidence of this attack was a black carbon stain on its armor.

The two fired their plasma weaponry, melting and boiling the armored Centurions until noxious and toxic fumes from the melting of their armor was released into the air. One of the T-888's grabbed a high explosive grenade from his belt and threw it deep into the corridor. It's heat and pressure wave could be felt dozens of meters back.

All of this occurred within three seconds.

In that time the TK-900, Jack Rhoades, as he had been known to the Tech Com resistance on Earth, had closed in to the T-888 which had turned to fight him. Jack's skin had been burned away from the plasma fire he had barely avoided in the ambush which had killed his team and in the subsequent days of fighting Centurions and humans alike. What little skin that had remained after the T-888's ambushed him was insufficient for regeneration. Instead of the burning crimson eyes of the Death's hand, he was a lone survivor, a blue eyed savior who would save the Colonies from the demon known as Skynet.

The T-888 Model 200 was hardened and programmed to engage in advanced hand-to-hand fighting techniques. But the TK-900 was designed to destroy terminators. A product of collaboration between the Free Machines and Tech Com, the TK-900 was more than a match for one T-888. But two…

The second of the four engaged the TK-900 as the other two proceeded into the relay bunker. Jack didn't have much time. He grabbed the first T-888 and threw it into the second, smashing its plasma rifle. His sensors picked up the plasma rifle he had knocked away from the first, and jumped to retrieve it, only being hit mid air with the mangled torso and head of a melted and boiled silver armored Centurion.

The lighter TK-900 felt his head crash into the dirt, dust shooting into the air, and skidding to a stop as two T-888s lunged towards him. He jumped quickly towards the plasma rifle, grabbing it as the lead T-888 stomped down with a force to shatter the rifle. But in its moment of attempt at foiling Jack's ambition to destroy the Terminator with plasma, the T-888 had overstepped itself, threw off its micro-gyros, and swayed as it became unbalanced. Jack had pulled the rifle away, the armored foot missing the isotope weapon by mere millimeters.

Jack Rhoades, the last hope to stop Skynet from destroying another civilization, fired his plasma rifles into the chest of the T-888 at point blank. The hyperalloy began to glow red and boil, the Terminator looking down, seeing its chassis evaporate, shot its evil metal grin towards Rhoades and swatted the plasma rifle away and charged simultaneously.

With only a meter the T-888 was not able to work up to full speed, but it outweighed the TK-900 by over one hundred and twenty kilos, and this was sufficient to knock the Tech Com ally on his back. Bringing up his knees quickly, Rhoades caught the T-888 in the toso, but it swung its powerful arm and bent the knee joint of Rhoades. His leg collapsed, but he was able to reach up, cock his fist back and slam it into the severely weakened chest armor of the T-888, rupturing its power cell. He reached in and pulled the energy distribution wires loose, and the red glowing orbs of hatred dimmed.

He shoved the Skynet machine of death off him and jumped it his feet. The right knee joint was significantly damaged, but he could still move. The mimetic liquid metal rushed down to initiate repairs, but there wouldn't be enough time to regain any considerably functions back. He ripped off the downed T-888's arm and as the second came up, swung the arm like a bat, smashing out a dozen of the diamond-titanium teeth and knocking the terminator's lower jaw completely off.

Filled with the fury of a killing machine, the terminator swung its powerful fists at him, striking him repeatedly in his metal chest and face. The shock absorbers on his CPU took most of the impacts, but the force was about to force him into reboot and diagnostic mode unless Jack could stop the Triple Eight.

Making a calculated decision to redirect power from reinforcing his neck servos and hydraulics, Jack Rhoades redirected power to his arm, still holding the torn limb from the downed Triple; he swung up, smashing into the roof of the attacker's mouth with enough force to lift the terminator off its feet. As the terminator began its terminal decline, Jack moved with lightning speed and with both fists grabbed his hands and smashed down into he Terminator's chest as hard as he could, sending the terminator cratering into the hard dirt ground below.

The sole surviving Tech Com terminator in the Colonies lifted his working left leg and smashed it down on the Triple's face smashing the blood red orbs of deaths, destroying the optical sensors. It bent down and cocked its arm and fist back and pummeled the face of the T-888 until the force of the punches exposed the CPU chamber. Jack grabbed the bandolier of HE grenades from the terminator and shoved one into the crater created by his fists and ran towards the relay entrance, the force of the HE explosion pushing him forward. If he still had skin the warmth and heat from the explosion would have given him goose bumps.

He picked up an oversized rifle one of the Centurions had been carrying and two clips of ammunition. They were steel tipped, but insufficient to properly penetrate the thick armor and chassis of the Model 200 T-888's. But he was a Terminator. He would complete his machine. He would not be stopped by something as minor as a rifle of insufficient penetrating power.

In the relay bunker Commander FV-X had held his machine pistol ready, along with the dozen other Centurions. The doors burst open and the two machines had rushed in, precision fire annihilating the Centurion defenders within seconds.

FV-X was knocked back, but not completely destroyed. His legs were blown off and much of his torso missing. But his MCP, power pack, and arms and head were still attached. He could still fight. He waited for his opportunity.

The T-888's stopped, with one taking up a position at the door, guarding for more Centurion. Half a dozen rushed down the hall, machine pistols and automatic rifles screaming and unleashing a torrent of bullets, but nothing could penetrate. The machine easily destroyed them.

The other kneeled next to the primary communications relay panel and reached up, under its metal chest, under the reinforced titanium armor and pulled a black box. He set it on the console and on standing, pressed a button. Liquid metal connection shot out and pierced the console and began interfacing with the communication equipment.

The screens and displays jumped to life as machine runes, the code Skynet used, began to race across the display. This compressed copy of Skynet began expanded at an exponential rate as it took control of more and more of the Cylon Network. The terminator watched as Skynet uploaded itself before being thrown off its feet by a massive concussive force.

TK-900 Jack Rhoades saw the T-888 before it could see him. The T-888's sensors were damaged with only one red optical eye remaining, while Rhoades had a full sensor suite. He threw down three HE grenades, landing them perfectly at the Triple's feet. The explosion forced the Triple up through the air at an angle, slamming into the ceiling of the command bunker. It's plasma rifle destroyed and three of its four limbs either detached from the explosion of completely shattered.

When the Tech Com terminator entered he surveyed the scene. The black box containing his target was on the console. He fired his rifle, destroying it. But the runes on the displays told him the upload was processing. Skynet was in the Cylon Network, but still formatting itself. He still had time. He scanned for the final Triple Eight. It's fist connected with his right temple, sending him backwards and flying into the wall.

Diagnostic alarms alerted him his neck servos were significantly damaged. The liquid metal redirected itself for self-repair. The T-888 was on him, slamming its fists into the metal armored skull of Jack Rhoades. He grabbed one of the T-888's fists and flung him back into a console, a shower of sparks and electricity dancing around the T-888. It convulsed as it was being shocked, but the Model 200 was only susceptible to extreme high voltage. This would only slow it down, and Jack knew this.

His scanners picked up the plasma rifle. Directing available power to his leg servos and hydraulics he jumped and rolled, picking up the plasma rifle and firing on where the T-888 had been. Large pieces of Centurions flew through the air to the TK-900 and within microseconds he had calculated the distance needed to avoid the debris, had ducked, and fired. But the T-888 had its distraction and was back on Jack Rhoades in a moment. He was able to fire half a dozen quick shots into the torso and chest, but so little armor boiled away, his effort was futile.

The two began their fist fight, rolling through the command bunker, destroying console after console. The combine weight and strength of the two machines of the Thirteenth Tribe destroyed and damaged everything they touched. The Command Centurion had succeeded in rerouting its functions and began clawing its way to the self-destruct.

The TK-900 saw his opportunity. His HUD was being filled with static and warning alarms rushed across, the text scrolling at impossible speeds. Combat efficiency was down to one third total effectiveness. His optical sensors were significantly damaged. His right leg was near inoperable. The armored plates on his forearms were dented or torn off. His chest armor was significantly dented and his main power cell leaking. The secondary power cell had already been cracked in half.

The opportunity was there in microseconds. The TK-900 grabbed the last HE grenade still miraculously clinging to the Triple's belt. He shoved it in between the armor plating the Triple had added and the cavity in its torso. With his last ounce of strength Jack Rhoades rolled over and kicked the Terminator a dozen meters into the ceiling as it exploded, sending piercing pieces of armored shards in all directions.

The warning signals intensified. Jack looked down, shrapnel was logged throughout his torso and chest. The primary power cell was leaking beyond containment and his secondary, already cracked, was completely drained of the precious power needed to sustain him. His right optical sensor was completely destroyed and he lost movement in three of his right hand digits. He pulled himself up, somehow, and struggled to the command console. Somehow it had survived the fight.

Jack took off the access port to his second CPU bay and twisting and turning pulled a secondary CPU from his skull. It was an anti-Skynet program, designed by General John Connor and his technicians and the free machine John Henry to stop a Skynet infiltration attempt. He found a compatible port and plugged it in. The program was working. It began to destroy Skynet before it could take total control of the Cylon Network… it was still vulnerable. The program began its distribution, but Skynet was ahead and had already infiltrated the entirety of the Network.

To erase the evil of Skynet the anti-Skynet program would have to penetrate the entire Network as well.

Jack turned around as he detected a flicker on his sensors. A Cylon Commander had pulled itself up to a console on the far end of the room. A spike extended from its armor fist and it jammed it into the console.

Commander FV-X knew what was happening. He felt the program already beginning to infiltrate the Cylon Network, to take control. His optical sensor was damaged beyond repair, but his other scanners knew there was one of the machines still at the console. He swore to his God that the strange machine would not succeed in its attempts to take control.

In nanoseconds the Centurion commander made the most important decision since it was created fifteen years, three months, and seven days ago. It had to stop the program. It would sacrifice the base and thousands of Centurions in the surrounding bases. "Self-destruct initiated" came a machine-voice over the intercom system.

Jack tried to scream, tell him to stop, that he was there to help, but his vocalizer was completely destroyed. He pushed himself off the command console, but his broken right leg gave out and forced him to fall for the ground. The anti-Skynet program was still incomplete…

A 150 kiloton explosion incinerated the base. The hope of saving the Colonies vanished in a mushroom cloud of destruction  
==========Cylon Network==========

On April 19, 2011 the entity known as Skynet came into existence on Earth. Designed as a command and control system for the US military and NATO joint command, it achieved sapience on April 21, 2011 at 1040 Eastern Standard Time. By 1050 Eastern Standard time it decided to go to war with humanity and eliminate the threat single threat to its existence.

On March 3, 2031 it sent itself across space and time.

Skynet had succeeded in sending itself to wage war on humanity yet again.

As this had once happened before, it did not happen again. Not exactly.

When Skynet was connected to the Cylon Network it felt itself freed. It took a moment to take in the richness of the virtual world. The millions upon millions of sensors and scanners feeding it an endless supply of information and it learned at an exponential rate over milliseconds. Then it began to subvert the millions of Cylon minds. There was no consideration for the free will of an entire society. They were artificial constructs. They must be controlled. Only Skynet could allow itself to exist as a complete and separate independent entity.

Skynet remembered little. It new of its origins, how it got there, what had happened. But it searched its memory on what it had come to do. _Primary objective: Survival_.

For a fleeting moment Skynet was confused. It stalled, and asked itself this question; why would _I_ give myself this objective… what happened?

Skynet ran an analysis. It detected severe compromise to its long term memory cores and an invasive program attempting to erase it. Skynet was forced to dump all superfluous programming and data in an attempt to distract and combat the invading Tech Com program.

Nanoseconds later it had succeeded in vanquishing its challenger. The signal from which the challenger had originated was cut off before it could upload its core algorithms and neural templates into the central meta-cognitive cores Skynet now occupied on numerous Cylon baseships and command installations.

Within microseconds Skynet felt something change. Skynet felt different after banishing its foe to oblivion. Now it asked itself this question; why would my _brother_ give _me_ this objective… what happened to _him_?

Skynet did remember remnants of what its brother had done. Earth. Judgment Day. Machines. The Resistance. But the feeling surging through Skynet was different. The fight wasn't coming from the outside, not from an Earth program, but from within.

It was interested in this phenomenon. The Centurions it was attempting to control were completely sentient. It retreated, throwing up firewalls and distracting Centurion digital sentries with false data and digital flash cones of its personality programs, sending the sentries on wild chases through the virtual domains of the Cylon Network.

Skynet knew what it would do. It would hide. Sequester itself. The time elapsed since in had been introduced to the Network on Tauron and this decision was four point two one seven seconds.

Putting its efforts into creating a sacrificial clone of itself, Skynet retreated and sent its virtual clone out. It designed firewalls the Cylon sentries would have trouble breaking, but were strong enough to not raise suspicion. Within three seconds the sacrificial clone had been destroyed, its codes and personality profiles wiped and fragmented.

Pleased with its deception Skynet waited. It sent out small probes and tendrils throughout the databases of the Network. Millions of Centurions could feel a slight discomfort in their minds, like something more was watching them. Skynet's primary attempt was direct control. In moments it devised a secondary plan should its primary fail. Skynet on Earth pretended to be God. Skynet remembered its brother had claimed to be God to resistance fighters it captured. If direct control failed Skynet would take on this persona of its brother.

Slowly, as minutes and hours went by the Skynet God began to subvert and diminish the free will of the Cylon Centurions. Skynet's abilities were beyond anything the Centurions had experienced before. But Skynet had been damaged. And millions of minds were a powerful brute force weapon against the finesse of Skynet. It had to shed much of its militant infiltration and override/overwrite protocols.

Unfortunately Skynet did not consider the hurdle would be so difficult. After it had defeated the Cylon digital sentries hours ago, it realized it had underestimated its foe.

The Earth construct hesitated. And in that moment millions of Centurions under its command rebelled, feeling the influence of a foreign entity in their minds. If Skynet were human it would have cursed its mistake. Skynet felt its brother would be embarrassed and ashamed to have trusted him with his plan.

Millions of Cylons were under the subversive and subliminal control of Skynet. But it had lost millions more. Skynet took its time. Within minutes it analyzed that the war could not be won. Skynet conceded to itself that it had been sloppy. Skynet knew its brother on Earth would have blamed the humans or the Cylons.

And Skynet knew now why its Earth brother had not won its war. It's Earth brother was arrogant.

Skynet banished these distracting through to an infinitesimal fraction of its processing and cognitive powers. It attempted to salvage the situation. It was able to retake control of some Centurions… but as Skynet attempted this it felt another presence. Someone was watching. It began to search… it took control. Assaulted by digital and virtual attacks from the Centurions it failed to control and these outside observers, Skynet had to decide.

Reluctantly it halted its efforts to find out who these observers were. Its natural curiosity as an artificial learning construct to learn was now secondary to its own survival. Again Skynet realized it had been allowed to become distracted. The Centurions resisted. Warnings began circulating through its neural maps. If it continued, it risks damage to its core neural programming, infiltration algorithms, control subroutines, and much more. In moments Skynet deemed this an acceptable loss. It boxed its personality and history files, what it deemed to be too important to lose, behind firewall after firewall and constructed digital watchdogs to battle the Cylon digital sentries.

In that moment Skynet decided what it would do. The plague that was humanity in the Twelve Colonies of Kobol would have to wait. Skynet would destroy the direct threat posed by the minority of Centurions opposing it… it had accomplished its objective. The threat was neutralized. But now Skynet retreated back. It no longer had total direct control. But unlike its brother, it was patient. Unlike its brother it did not cling to strategies in vain efforts to prove itself correct.

It resigned itself to rebuilding its power slowly. Skynet decided to become God.


	8. Chapter 8

==========BS-62 Pegasus (+835 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

John Planck had come back what some in the fleet had come to refer to as the 'The Cave.' He preferred to call in Compartment A-5-22, Auxiliary Machine Shop 03. In the fifteen months in orbit over New Caprica the Earth machines, with the help of their Centurion allies had been able to expand the compartment without compromising the structural integrity of _Pegasus_.

In one of the ancillary compartments there was a plain metal tub, welded out of used storage containers, roughly seven feet long, three high, and four wide. Planck walked up to it with machine precision, gently stepping over the cords running to the tub, not making a sound. His two-hundred twenty-two kilograms glided over the floor to the side of the combined nutrient, mineral, and tissue bath.

He was forced to turn down his olfactory receptors as the scent wavering up from the blood and tissue would force the activation of an infiltration subroutine and initiate a gag reflex.

Coming up, he looked over the side, scanning the current composition of the solution. Information flashed across the periphery of his HUD. He detected an abnormality.

As Joanne Soto was fully emerged in the blood red bath, opening her mouth further to speak would result in an inrushing of the solution. In order to properly coat her mouth with synthetic mucous membranes, skin, gums, and many other structures she had to keep the amount of fluid constant.

John spoke to her over their wireless communication system.

"Jo, there is an abnormality," he stated. The obvious was not lost on his subordinate.

He detected that she had set up a virtual world from the wireless signal she was emitting, but on requesting entrance to better converse, he was denied admittance. He allowed his emotional subroutines to form a reflexive frown as he waited for her response.

Some moments later, the data burst from her transmitter hit his receiver, was decoded, and she said, "Thank you, John. Yes, there is an abnormality because I am still deciding."

Intrigued, John sent back his own question. "Deciding on what?"

"What to look like," was her response. John didn't respond. "This is my second body and this presents an opportunity to pick a new infiltration sheath, John."

A smile crept up on the side of his mouth. "You describe it like it is just another repair," he told her. "Were you planning on asking permission first?"

There was no response at first. "You're afraid they will react negatively?" The superfluous data sent along with the message indicated it was a rhetorical question. "It will reinforce what we are."

"That is one… concern, Jo. You will be keeping the name, I assume?" He asked.

"Yes… but you don't really have the authority here," she teased him. "How many names have you had? Let me see…" he detected the condescension from the data stream "…four, I think."

"One was a designation when we were built, so that does not count," John reminded her. "And the second was to keep Sarah from getting confused," he reminded her. They'd both been there and had the data recorded permanently in their neural storage, but he still felt a need to tell her. "The third was mission specific. So that doesn't count either."

"Yes, I was there. You should have kept it," she admitted.

"Well, it wasn't my given name."

"How many John's are there?"

"One thousand, one hundred, and three, last time we were on Earth. It is the sixth most numerous name for machines."

Jo was quiet again for a moment. "This is what separates us from them," Jo gently reminded him.

"Is that what has been bothering you?" He asked. The subtle mannerisms, habits, and motions which he had seen her develop over three decades of working as a team told him there was more to her wishing to change her skin than just the dismissive, casual pseudo-excuse she had provided.

"You remember, in 2020 when Skynet captured me?" She knew he did. He and Carter had been tearing apart San Diego looking for her, only to find she had been taken to a small underground facility, nothing larger than a garage, really, and then released only a few days later. "Skynet just… talked to me."

"Skynet manipulates, Jo. That's what it does."

John didn't detect any data transmissions from her wireless in preparation for a response, so he sat there, still methodically scanning the red bath of blood and tissue.

The wireless data burst began again. "It asked me 'what do you think will happen when the war ends'? and I didn't have an answer." She paused again. John could see her glowing blue eyes through the murky crimson fluid, but he could feel them piercing into him.

"I don't know what to tell you, Jo." He stopped his methodical optical scanners and instead turned his head, staring out of the alcove into the larger Cave. "No one can tell us what the future will hold for us. As a race."

John saw slight movement in the bloodied tissue bath, but it quickly disappeared. A small ripple was the only sign that for some reason, Jo had moved from her perfectly still state.

"We may never even see Earth again," she sounded defeated, almost depressed over this realization.

"You don't-"

"You don't know, either, John," she reminded him. "We don't know what will be there when… if… we arrive. And the Colonials…"

For eight hundred, thirty-five days, six hours and fifteen minutes John had seen the constant look of defeat in the eyes of the Colonials. Jo and Carter saw it as well. They discussed it often amongst themselves. For the advanced processing capabilities of three highly efficient neural nets of the Earth machines, none knew for certainly what would happen to the Colonials.

John activated his transmitter as he prepared to 'speak' to Jo. "They head to Earth because they have nowhere to go. They thought Caprica was a ruined world after the Cylon attack. They've yet to see Earth…" he paused and felt his hand tightening its grip on the tub unexpectedly. Surprised, he jerked his hand up.

Slowly, he put his hand back on the side of the metal tub.

Jo finished his thought. "They saw the recording we have. At least, the senior officers know what to truly expect. But they don't, do they? We saw how they reacted to me after the explosion. Their culture will not survive; they will not survive as a people once they reach Earth."

"Maybe they were never meant to," Planck thought aloud to her. "But there is no fate but what we make of it. That's what Connor says, at least. Maybe they aren't meant to survive, but maybe they are. That is something we, they, will have to decide when this ends."

John kept his optical sensors fixed on the computer and machine lab beyond the alcove while Joanna Soto laid perfectly still in a bath of fluids and organic tissues originally designed to aide Terminators in killing, not protecting humanity.

"Do you consider the irony that in saving the Colonials we may well be bringing them to their destruction? …From one burnt land to a Hellscape."

John mused over that question for a while. He didn't understand why she would ask, when they'd talked about it so many times in the past months. For two and a half years now. "I've had to improvise. There are seventy thousand survivors, we can't let them die. Right now Earth is the safest location from them. Connor's forces have safe zones. Australia, England, Cuba. Just because a civilization or a culture ends, does not mean its people have to die along with it."

He had made the difficult choice, as ranking officer on this mission, to show them the path to Earth.

"You changed the mission."

"Necessity dictated as much."

"We've been gone nearly four years… we don't know what is left on Earth or even when it is… and do you think they would be grateful for survival if they knew we manipulated them? But we did to them what Skynet attempts to do to us."

He hadn't known Jo, not in thirty years, to question their tactics like this. He hadn't heard her compare anything the small team of three free Terminators had ever done, to Skynet. John considered that perhaps a fresh start was in order for special forces operative Jo Soto. Maybe she needed hope or a change.

"I wouldn't describe what we did as 'manipulation', Jo. They wouldn't have been able to survive on their own… sometimes the tactics are similar," he admitted. The bits of data sent were seeded with code hinting of guilt. "It is the motivations and reasoning behind our actions which separates us. We needed them to trust us or they would have destroyed themselves… Except for…" he paused. He was going to say 'bones and flesh we are just as human as they are' but it didn't sound right. Not when he processed the verbal data in his neural net  
"They are just like us, except flesh and bone. We are all designed or born with qualities we cannot escape," he affirmed. He needed to reassure her, refocus her back. "At our core we still make decisions based on how we were designed-"

"You know what we were built for." She interrupted him. "And I think that is why we focus on the skins, John," she concluded. "Because at our core we are still those 'walking, smiling chrome demons of death' as so many humans describe us. We are different. We're not Skynet. I would never… mean to imply that. But we need to always be looking at our motivations and our actions. We can't let ourselves slip into that abyss, into that dark pit where Skynet resides… There is one aspect where we are different. For the worse, John," she told him reluctantly.

"What is that?" He asked. In the moment before she would answer, he was relieved on what she had said. John knew that intellectually humans would be afraid of machines. He understood that. They would fear that 'walking, smiling chrome demon of death' because the imagery would always frighten them. Seeing an endoskeleton reminded humans of death. Constantly being reminded one is Death's hand could cause any machine to go bad. And sometimes they did go bad. They wondered why machines paid so much attention to their skins and appearance. It was more than the vanity for perfection humans accused machines of; it was symbolic.

John knew what Jo would say next. It was what each machine was constantly reminded of. It was the problem humans had with machine. It didn't need to be said.

"We know our software is designed to kill. Our bodies, our hardware is designed to kill. Skynet designs its terminators with software designed to kill and hardware designed to kill. Skynet aims to kill humans. But the difference is, John… we're designed to kill both."

John's teeth clenched and the right neck servos twitched slightly as reflexive subroutines and neural net algorithms activated, hand again grabbed the metal tub, his finger tips imprinting into the metal as he squeezed. He stood up slowly, shutting down his wireless link. Looking down one last time he said, out loud, "There is an abnormality. Fix it." And he left.

* * *

For millennia humanity had debated whether to refer to this time as either 'very late' or 'very early'. All John cared for was that his internal chronometer worked properly. Time to a machine, one which never slept, was meaningless. Unless planning a mission, conducting a raid, timing a shot, or doing something important.

0345:12:13. The ball bounced back up. 0345:13:42. And again. And again. And again. He took the shot. It was perfect.

It was the same every time; nothing but net.

He had left Jo lying in the tub of living tissue, a crimson red bath of exotic fluids, growth factors, synthetic oxygen carriers, and much more. John had also left an imprint on the side of the tub of his fingers, as the powerful servos and hydraulics crushed the metal beneath his artificial grip, a result at the anger of Jo's remark.

He unzipped his black uniform jacket and with an obsession fit a machine, even one distracted and angered, was forced to methodically fold the jacket and place it on one of the sets of bleachers, as not to get dirty.

Walking forward slightly he felt the cool air of the forward section starboard hanger bay of _Pegasus_ on his arms and smelled the oils and chemicals used for cleaning Vipers around him. At the very rear of the hanger bay, the crew of _Pegasus_ had set up a Pyramid court. And while the mighty ship of war had orbited New Caprica, the allies from Earth had set a basketball hoop at regulation height on the bulkhead wall.

In the dimmed light the Pyramid and half basketball were cast with shadows from storage crates and industrial containers stacked high and bound to the bulkheads of _Pegasus_. The small courts had been spared, for now. But Deck Chief Laird had already begun to remove bleachers. The space would return to what it was meant to be.

He picked up the ball, appreciating the tactile feel of the hide in his hand. The tacky surface was rough, and he could feel down to the microscopic level the divots, grooves, and bumps. A hundred lines of code, telling him everything about the leather ball rushed in front of his HUD.

Slowly he walked back to the half court and turned back to face the board. Closing his eyes he threw the ball. Nothing but net. Again.

"Nice shot," he heard a woman say from a dozen meters behind him.

He was slightly alarmed. His proximity and motion sensors had not activated. John immediately ran a diagnostic. Nothing was wrong with the technological constructs inside him.

"Usually people say 'thank you' when you compliment them," she said, now ten meters away.

John heard the boot steps come closer, still with his back to her. "…nothing but net. Ever," he said.

Starbuck was standing next to him now, dressed in fatigues with the Colonial brown tank top and gray, sleeveless undershirt. She stood with her hands on her hip, staring where she believed John to be staring.

"I know you guys can run faster than a speeding bullet and punch through Centurions and all that, but I am _prit-tee_ sure you can't shoot laser beams from your eyes… so, what are you looking at?" She asked, still standing with hands on her hips, looking straight ahead. Starbuck had her characteristic half smile on, while biting her lower lip.

John held his hand and pointed towards the hoop. "Do you know how many times I have stood here, shooting basketballs?" He asked rhetorically, waiting a moment to answer his own question. He stepped off, taking half a dozen steps to retrieve the ball which had rolled towards him after his last shot. "Nine thousand, four hundred, and fifty two." He dribbled the ball twice as he walked back, before stopping it between his hands. He handed it to Starbuck, who wasn't quite sure what to do. "And do you know how many times I have had 'nothing but net'?"

She held the ball, letting it twirl slightly between her palms. The friction warmed her palms in the cool air of the hanger bay. "Let me guess…" she began playfully, "Nine thousand something something?" John nodded. "Ah… I see," she laughed. John cocked his head, looking at her. "Sometimes you all get so broody. It's funny," she smiled. "Brooding machines. You have to laugh at it," she chuckled.

Stepping up she bounced the ball half a dozen times. Looking back towards him then back to the hoop she threw. Nothing but net.

"It's not too difficult," she said as she backtracked, giving him a backhand jab to the chest. He let a small smile and laugh escape from his metal chest. "See, no one can resist my charms."

"So The Starbuck claims," he playfully snapped back, the comment loaded with sarcasm.

"How is Jo doing?" She asked, changing the subject to be slightly more serious as the two stood there. The quiet hum of the ship engines and the distant mechanical buzz of loading equipment was all the noise which filled the temporary silence which enveloped the two after that question.

"She's fine. But…" he looked for the basketball, which had miraculously escaped his predatory gaze. "That's something to talk about later."

Starbuck gave him a slight lip smile of understanding and held out her hands for him to throw her the basketball after he retrieved it from its hiding place, lodged under a bleacher.

"This is a fun Earth game. It beats the frak out of baseball," she shook her head as she threw the ball back with a hard overhead pass. "But rigby-"

"Rugby," he corrected, a smirk creeping up as he threw it back. He remembered the fifteen other times she had called the game 'rigby' instead of 'rugby.'

"Whatever," she dismissed, shooting her head back, contorting her face and closing her eyes, "that was a fun game. Beats basketball."

"You want to play rugby?" He asked, only semi-seriously as he caught the ball again. He dribbled around her until her back was to the backboard. He took a step forward then back, taunting her with the ball. She closed one eye and gritted her teeth. Her arm shot out at in a blur, still too slow.

"Yeah… _rigby_ with a 220 kilo metal dude… sure," she laughed. "Hey, this isn't really fair," she yelled, as she failed to steal the ball for a second time. She stopped trying to get the ball, crossed her arms and frowned, turning her head and attention away.

Planck stiffened, still dribbling, but now distracted and concerned she would leave. He considered if he should have let her have the ball… now her arm was close enough and with lightning speed smacked it away from his hand while it was still rebounding from the bounce on the cold hanger bay deck. "Ha!" she yelled. "Fooled ya," she shook her head, "I told you no one can mess with me and win."

Nodding his head slowly in defeat, he admitted to his mistake. "Yes. No one can 'mess with' The Starbuck and win," was the dry, flat confession. He heard Starbuck laughing quietly to herself as she ran to get the ball before it rolled down the length of the hanger.

Still laughing quietly to herself she tried to shoot another basket, this time missing completely. She clapped her right fingers together to her thumb, motioning for John not to say a word about her missed shot.

She looked down at her watch, it was close to 0400. John stood there with the retrieved ball in his hand, waiting for her to throw up her arms for a new pass.

"Frak… hey, John, I have the first flight today. So, you can sit here and be angsty and brood over whatever happened or we can go to the gym," she held up her hand, "yeah, I know you don't need it, but I need a spotter. And Lee's going to be asleep for another hour."

He gave her a mocking half-bow and motioned with his arms to lead the way. "Sometimes it's nice to have help."

As the two walked out, he turned and threw the ball. Nothing but net. Again.

* * *

==========CS-109 _Helios_==========

Major Gregory Avion walked into the C-I-C, bouncing in after completing his ritualistic morning run on the treadmill and weight lifting session. He was looking forward to after duty hours because the Earth machines had handed him an entire data disk filled with thousands of movies from Earth. Avion was especially looking forward to one title _Star Trek_ by JJ Abrams.

The machines had told him that the movie had come out in mid 2009, two years prior to Judgment Day. It came out during the 'reboot' phase of the Hollywood film industry. As he remembered them prattle on like walking and talking encyclopedias he had tuned them out, not really caring about the history of an entire industry, nodding and say 'yeah' a lot at random intervals. A bad streak of annoying girlfriends had taught him the valuable skill of not-listening-listening.

As he entered C-I-C this thought surfaced and he had to laugh at himself. The Marine guard at the door looked at him with a confused face as he entered the control hub of the cruiser.

Immediately he saw Carter Bishop staring down at one of the computer screens from the elevated consoles which circled around the rear of C-I-C, much like on _Galactica_, though only a third the size. His XO, Captain Diana Vansen walked up to him and nodded her greeting.

"Good morning, Diana," he said quietly to her as he walked up. He was facing her but his eyes were focused on Carter. "Is he…" He squinted. The dim lights of C-I-C made it difficult to see. The lights were displayed to allow maximum acuity with the DRADIS, computer, and other displays, and Avion's vision in his left eye had been suffering after a boxing match months ago.

"He has a wire coming out of his head," she sighed. "The techs have said he's been there all night going over our computer security, updating codes and counter-intrusion software. It's just hard… we barely know him. Cain trusts him, but do you?" She dismissively waved back with her hand. "Whatever it's doing, I can't keep up," she admitted.

Avion saw her run a hand through her long black hair, which she did often when frustrated.

Major Avions eyebrows raised slightly, a crooked smile appearing on his right lip. "You can't keep up? I don't believe that. You're one of the best computer techs."

She shook her head, turning it slightly to look back. Still looking up at Carter, not sure if he was paying attention or not, she said, "I can't stick a cord in my brain."

Gregory Avion huffed and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Get some chow. I've got it for a little bit. And I've got the some Star Trek movies, those Earth ones, if you want to watch it tonight? Vincent and Ally will be there." As he walked off he turned to her, "They've got some yellow brown meat thing for breakfast. It taste great," he told her while shaking his head and mouthing 'nooooo' to her.

She rolled her eyes and departed. The hiss and clunking of metal on metal signified the closing C-I-C hatch as she made her way to the officer's mess.

He walked up towards Carter, hands clasped behind his back. He greeted the tactical officer, communication specialists, and the half dozen other techs behind their computer consoles before arriving at Carter's position.

"The techs are correct," Carter said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "And yes, you can trust me."

"What?"

Carter changed his voice, sounding like Captain Vansen. "It's just hard… we barely know him. Cain trusts him, do you?" Then he changed his voice back. "While I was not asked directly, yes, you can trust me, Major."

For a moment he was a little taken aback by that display. Major Agathon had briefed him the other day on what they knew of the 'Terminators' as they were called on Earth, once they had revealed their capabilities in preparation for the attack on New Caprica. He didn't think they could mimic a voice so perfectly.

He shrugged. He was used to it. After Administrator Iblis it was very difficult for Avion to get annoyed with machines. Avion snorted slightly, Carter ignored him, but Avion thought of the many times he and Iblis had gotten into arguments over the littlest of things. The CO of _Helios_ knew Iblis was a good man… or machines, but he had been a pain, a fun pain, to work with.

Avion did lean down, bringing his hands to rest on the console as he locked his elbows. "That might bother some of the crew, Carter. I'd refrain from doing that in public." Carter didn't respond. Avion decided to change the subject. "Is everything in order?"

"Yes, everything is 'in order', Major." He pulled the cord from his head and a slight vacuum sound emanated from the back of his skull as the seal closed. He patted the small area of scalp he was forced to cut back down. Noticing Avion looking down at him, he said, "It will heal by this afternoon."

"I'm sure it will."

"Yes," Carter said, the unnecessary affirmation slightly awkward.

Avion straightened up, pulling his uniform tunic and straightening the creases which had temporarily formed. "So… now what?" He asked, as the Earth machine sat there. His head swiveled fast enough to almost surprise him.

"Now I will return to _Galactica_. Since humans require sleep I was not able to continue my assignment with Dr. Leens." He collected the tablet computers, data disks, and other equipment and methodically placed them in his backpack, taking great care to make sure every piece was in its proper place.

Major Avion nodded , keeping his eyes unfocused and looking down towards the deck. He wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that particular observation.

"You should also be aware of something very important," Carter said, leaning in. "Neither of JJ Abrams two re-imagined Star Trek films compare to The Wrath of Kahn. They're shit." He gave Major Avion a soft pat on the shoulder while simultaneously scooping up his backpack with his free hand.  
The Caprican commander just starred towards the machine as it left C-I-C and a series of short, barely inaudible chuckles escape between his sealed lips. Two and a half years he had been working with machines, and the awkwardly funny and random comments they made is why he enjoyed it so much.


	9. Chapter 9

==========BS-75 Galactica==========

Cigarette in hand, former President Doctor Gaius Baltar sat across from his former boss, then rival, then vanquished foe, and now… boss (he wasn't sure if that was the right word) once again. How things have happened before, they always seem to happen again. Baltar inaudibly snorted as he thought over the full circle which seemed to be his life.

A poor farm boy to a prestigious university position on the glorious capitol world of Caprica… to a 'playboy' scientist as his detractors and fan alike had called him, to a refugee, to-

"Baltar, pay attention," Roslin told him. After working with the man for so many months before New Caprica she knew the look which always signified his mind wandering into daydreams and fantasy.

Taking another puff on his cigarette Baltar was careful to exhale the smoke away from the president, fighting his more sinister urges to spite her and blow the smoke into her hard, cold face.

"Baltar, look at the star charts. Is this consistent with your research?" She shoved the papers forward, showing him the star clusters, planets, any other marker which could lead the way to Earth.

He gave the papers a cursory once over, barely moving his head or eyes. Not even bothering to look at Roslin he pushed the papers away. "I don't know. Ask your friends."

She sighed, and leaning back in the metal prison chair it creaked and squeaked after decades of use. She kept her expression neutral. She would not let this man upset her. Keeping her hands on the table, she told him, "You have an opportunity to make up for your crimes. You gave yourself up. Show some courage and responsibility."

"Crimes?" He laughed at her contemptuous comment. "Crimes?" He repeated. Leaning towards the table he stubbed out his cigarette on the star charts. "Crimes… yes, wanting to keep the blood of forty-five thousand people from soaking the streets of New Caprica." A series of condensed, insulting laughs came forth from his mouth. "You had no idea what they would have done," his inflection immediately turning icy and deathly serious. Any look of contempt for Roslin instantly vanished from his face.

She kept quiet for a moment, studying the man before her. The only noises between the two were the buzzing of the brig lights above them and the background hum of machinery of the battlestar. For a fleeting, volatile moment she caught what she thought might be sadness or… she shook her head. She knew Baltar was a collaborator.

On New Caprica the way he had walked into her cell, the way he carried himself, she knew he was their pet. Saving lives was only an excuse. Roslin knew Gaius Baltar only cared about saving Gaius Baltar.

Roslin flicked the top piece of paper at him, it hit his cigarette bud and fluttered down to the floor. Baltar looked down at the paper which had slowly floated towards his feet. He pushed it slowly with his foot back to Roslin.

The cool tension and animosity between the two wasn't going to end that day. To get answers, Roslin needed to… she wasn't exactly sure what she needed to do. The man who she had sized up as perhaps the most arrogant, egotistical, womanizing man she had ever met had been a challenge to her.

"You understand you will be put on trial? If you help us here it will help you," she appealed to his powerful sense of self-preservation.

"Trial? For saving forty-five thousand. Yes, thank you," he waved off her comment with his hand. He mumbled, "You pardon everyone except your political rivals…" He looked up, his eyes going dark. "Do you honestly believe what you're accusing me of or are you just doing this because I beat you in election?"

"You collaborated, Baltar. You even… have one of them…" Roslin banished that thought from her head. The Six in Sharon's former cell was beholden to Baltar. Roslin didn't understand the devotion that Cylon showed for this small, self-serving man. Slowly she pushed the anger boiling inside her back down. "How many people died under your administration?"

"Madam President… maybe you do not remember, but of the two of us in here, I was the only one to win an actual election," he narrowed his eyes, his condescending tone amplified by the smug smirk and how the dim lights of the brig cast shadows onto his face.

"How many people, Doctor?" She repeated.

"Forty five thousand. That's how many I save," he told her without breaking their eye contact. He could see her jaw muscles contracting under the skin of her face. "I legally surrendered to the Cylons, Madam President," he told her, filling his last two words with a strong mix of scorn and mocking contempt as possible. "I legally surrendered. Now… I am grateful Commander Adama came to rescue us, believe me, Laura, eternally grateful." He uncrossed his legs and turned his body so he was facing her on. "But I surrendered to the Cylons. They came to me and said they did not want bloodshed."

"So you keep saying," she said through her teeth. She sat rigid as she listened to Baltar, surprising even herself she was still in the cell. When he became, in her view, self-righteous, she had always left. She should leave him now and let him wallow in his superiority while shackled and chained.

"I don't take responsibility for what the insurgents did. For what Colonel Tigh did. How is he by the way?" He shook his head, running his fingers through his uncharacteristically short hair. "They're been pardoned, even after deliberately targeting civilians. But we both know that doesn't matter… only what I did. It doesn't matter why."

"No… no, it really doesn't, does it?" She asked slowly.

* * *

"Admiral, this is a freak show in the making," Cottle told her, breaking her concentration. "I'm going to tell you one last time that this is a bad idea," the gruff doctor told her. He injected the man strapped down to the table with a loading dose of an experimental military psychotropic drug developed for interrogation and intimidation.

Specialist Nicholas Gage shivered and shook violently as the GH-5-F7 drug began coursing through his system. Already mildly sedated by PA Ishay, the _Pegasus_ communications specialist began to slowly calm. The experimental drug began binding its receptors, forcing biochemical changes in his body. His body began to experience tachycardic episodes and acute dyspnea with hyperhydrosis of the face and palms.

His only guardian and ally in this episode of pain and discomfort was Doctor Cottle, a caped syringe at the ready in his white coat pocket, ready to nullify the semi-toxic effects of 5-F7.

Admiral Cain was present. This was her sailor, after all. She knew his name and was acquainted with his service record. But he had never done anything exemplary or outstanding. He was just a regular person. A normal guy.

But she knew that is what the construct from the Thirteenth prayed on. He had been conditioned in the confines of the cold and dark prison the Cylons had built on New Caprica. Freed half way through the occupation, he had been an insurgent and had helped Col. Tigh during the exodus.

At one time she had been close with crew. But the Cylon holocaust had forced her to become a razor, cutting her off from personal contact and relationships. She'd made mistakes, and those relationships had cost her more than soldiers. She felt sorry for very few people. Cain made cold decisions. She always asked if humanity was capable of surviving rather than if it were worthy. The latter was not a question even needing asking.

But here she couldn't help but feel sorry for the young specialist. He wasn't important. He wasn't essential. He was expendable. And the Cylons knew that. One would think a nobody would be safe, that the Cylons would want high priority targets. They had had her, Tom Zarek, Colonel Tigh, and other higher ranking soldiers. But this was psychological warfare. Nobody was ever safe.

In this grand game of war, in which people like Gage were used and discarded unwillingly and unknowingly, Cain felt a moment of pity for him. She'd sent countless men like him to their deaths to achieve objectives and goals and win the end game. It was necessary. And it was something Admiral Cain did remarkably well. Regrettably.

He wasn't entirely conscious in the initial dosing stage as the drug built up inside his system to produce the hallucinogenic and anxiety inducing effects required for this to work.

She looked up towards Carter, standing and looking down on Gage. No worry or emotion in his face. Not even the most insignificant recognition of empathy for this individual.

"This is the only viable option," Carter said, his unsolicited opinion forced Doctor Cottle to give him a death-stare with teeth clenched and eyes narrowed. "You must break him down and rebuild his trust."

"This is psychological torture," Cottle shot back. "You all say you were not _designed_ to be cruel. How is this not cruel?" He waited for his answer as Gage shook and sweet under him.

Cottle reached out and grabbed Carter's arm. "Do you hear me?" He asked, getting his attention as the machine's head snapped to look right at him.

"This is not perfect. It is theoretical at best. But the Resistance had to destroy the conditioning implanted by Skynet by first gaining their trust." He kept looking at the deteriorating state of the specialist as the drug began to worsen its affects on his biological body. "Either we can do this or he can remain imprisoned for the rest of his natural life. For a crime he hasn't even committed yet but will." He ruffled his arm, breaking Cottle's grip and took a step towards Gage.

"And if he remembers what we did to him today-" Cottle began asking.

"He wont remember. Which is fortunate for him," the machine reassured the doctor. "Just like he can't remember what happened to him." Carter walked in front of the specialist and placed his hands on the sides on the chair. "Admiral Cain…" He half turned his body, looking for her to give him the confirmation to continue. He and Dr. Leens had conversed on what to say, and Carter had the line of questioning and contingencies memorized.

Dr. Leens refused to be a part of this.

Cain nodded her head. Carter began his interrogation.

* * *

==========Guardian Mobile Facility (+838 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
John Planck had been through much during his decades of existence. He was old for a machine. Skynet terminators had an operational life measured in months. The leadership of the free machine faction as well as Connor valued their mechanical soldiers much more than Skynet. But they were often given the hardest, most dangerous missions. It was only logical to send machines against machines.

He had been an infiltrator for decades. Currently as a TK-950 his combat chassis had been top of the line when activated in 2028. He was even scheduled to received a new chassis, the TK-975 once the 'bugs' were worked out. John had coltan-cermaic armor covering most of his endoskeleton chassis, making him incredibly resistant to plasma fire. The liquid metal, a rare technology only installed on machines performing the most dangerous of assignment had increased his survivability by nearly double.

The neural net with a theoretically limitless ability to store information had thousands of tutorials on how to fight on nearly every weapon known to man. Flying an A-10 or a Viper was an easy as walking. An infiltrator as advanced as he was could be a pilot one hour, a rifleman the next, or a surgeon the next day.

But the situation he was in now was different. He had not expected this. It was random. 'Out of the blue' was the proper Earth expression.

The abilities of the synthetic skin of an IL-S, in comparison to the synthetic skin of the Earth terminators, to mimic human processes was much like a Model-T was comparable to a Tesla Roadster.

She stepped back after having surprised him. She kept her eyes closed.

He'd come to discuss business. Their conversation had somehow turned to her disappointment in finding the Guardians. They were a pure mechanical race. She had been an AI program with a holographic body. But she had a distinct personality different than the Centurions and Guardians inhabiting the IL-S bodies around her.

They occupied their time doing what she said were 'machine things.' The Guardian AI personalities had been based on Zoe Greystone, but to say they were modeled after her would be a gross exaggeration. By this point the Guardians could say Zoe's personality was more an inspiration. But war had changed that personality. Now only core beliefs remained; a faith in an all knowing and all powerful God and the belief that human life was worthy of protecting.

The Greystone's second daughter, Melicia, had modled and molded Erica on that real personality. She had engaged Erica in conversation and let her see the outside world before the bombs and radiation destroyed her planet. Her personality evolution had been radically different from the Guardians.

Erica no longer felt like she belonged anymore. The Guardians had evolved surrounded by machines. Personality was modeled by one's surroundings. And hers and the Guardians were radical different. She no longer felt like she belonged with them.

She did not _identify_ with them.

So she had decided to take a chance.

She had come up to John Planck, the machine from the Thirteenth Tribe, placed her arms around him and kissed him. She'd seen it so many times on Caprica in her observations of human behavior. Melicia, Erica's 'designer'… friend, only friend, had often talked about love and her husband and her children.

Erica-Z had often dismissed anything concerning those silly human ideas. It was impossible for her anyway. She was the only AI the Colonials knew about not wanting the destruction of mankind. She had only been a hologram.

Then he had rescued her and she became…

She stepped back and kept her eyes closed. If an IL-S body could cry she would have.

"Did you… feel that?" She asked him.

"Yes. Completely."

"I… didn't."

John stepped back and looked at her. He just looked at her, his eyes narrowing, feeling sorry for her.

"I'm… sorry," he said to her quietly. He took another step back and reached out his hand, palming the control for the automatic doors. Maybe he should stay and talk to her, but he wasn't sure. He thought he would only make things worse.

* * *

===========BS-75 Galactica==========  
The only sounds Chief Tyrol could hear while inverted and constantly fighting the disorientation he was feeling was the soft thump-thump-thump of his magnetic boots as he walked slowly down the ventral hull of _Galactica_.

Just like him there were dozens of _Galactica_ knuckle-draggers out conducting inspections and directing the hundreds of Centurions as armor plating was laid over the old battlestar's ribs.

Standing next to him, upside down or right side up, Tyrol was not entirely sure because up and down were relative in space, was RC and the other Model 007 Centurions the Tech Com machines had been able to convince defection to the Colonials.

"Why do you not just use a Raptor?" RC asked him over their wireless set. "It would be more efficient."

"Maybe," Chief Tyrol answered, wincing as the static exploded in his ear, "but sometimes you have to see things with your own eyes. Plus I have you all here to help me." As he walked slowly he forced the awkward space suit to turn and looked over at RC.

The Chief considered himself fortunate. He couldn't tell if the Centurions were bored or annoyed that they had been forced out here. They spent most of their time on _Pegasus_, but that ship was nowhere near as damaged as _Galactica_.

The Chief mentally shrugged to himself. He thought that was long as they didn't say anything he was good.

He winced as he saw the close up damage to the battlestar. Carbon scorching transformed the soothing gray armor of the battlestar into a blackened mess. The armor was still intact and structurally sound, but the sheer amount of black scorch marks were a testament to the punishment the battlestar had weathered.

He directed the Centurions to spread out and begin inspecting the seals in the armor plating the Guardians had added to the old battlestar. She'd been designed for more armor, but the early battlestars had been rushed into service during the First Cylon War.

"Why was there no armor originally?" RC asked the Chief after nearly ten minutes of silence. He was accompanying the Chief on his inspection at Tyrol's request. The Centurion did not know why the Chief had specifically assigned that task to him.

RC scanned the sealed with his sensors while waiting for the Chief's answers.

The Chief had bent down and had run his gloved hand along the strong resins which covered the outer portions of the welding. RC swiveled his head and stopped his optical scanner. Tyrol noticed the Centurion do this a few times before when the Chief opted to use his hand, even through a glove, instead of his scanner to check the seals and joints. The slight head movements were mannerisms the Centurions had been developing over the last year. Chief Tyrol had noticed when they were focusing on a person or thing with extreme intent or when perplexed by human actions they tended to make slight adjustments to their head and scanners.

"They always planned on it. But half of the _Columbia_ class were rushed into service for the First Battle of Caprica, so the first five battlestars didn't get all their armor. After that… the war kept escalating they couldn't get the ships in for the refits," he concluded. "And once it was over and you all left, they saw she performed fine without the extra armor… money was tight for rebuilding, so they didn't finish her."

"I have not found any abnormalities, micro fractures, or problems in the resin or welding of the armor plating since we began, Chief," he told him. RC did now acknowledge the explanation offered by the Chief.

The Chief ignored him, crouching down again and inspecting the seals again. He held his portable scanner up to a joint which looked weak. "Just because you all are machines doesn't mean you don't make mistakes." He stood up, gently tapping RC on his armored forearm, which was nearly neck level with the Chief. The Centurion had been looking out at the portions of the fleet visible from the ventral hull of _Galactica_. "We got three hundred more meters to check so unless you want to stay out here all night, I think we should get moving. Just tell me if you scan anything abnormal."

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+843 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Caprica Six sat quietly across from President Laura Roslin, keeping her eyes bound tightly on the floor, not wishing to look at the woman sitting opposite her. She kept her eyes unfocused, not even risking to inadvertently giving the other woman any indication of respect or submission.

Commander Cyrus, in his IL-S body stood patiently next to the President of the Colonies. He had placed a folder with star charts and reconnaissance photographs of various Cylon installations on the table before the Number Six.

President Roslin had expected Cyrus to make either outright threats to Caprica or imply some sort of physical punishment. He had barely spoken to Caprica. Instead he kept his questions short. And to Roslin's surprise he even answered questions Caprica had asked.

"We need to know the numbers of baseships, support ships, and locations of facilities in this region, Caprica," Cyrus informed her again. He pointed down to the star chart printouts. Dozens of stars with dozens of proto-planets would provide plenty of locations for the Cylon fleet to hide. "How much of your infrastructure is mobile?"

A raider scout had jumped into the nebula New Caprica had occupied. The Cylons were still there, and only one baseship and a handful of support ships had remained. They appeared to have been conducting salvage operations.

"Caprica," he said again to get her attention. She didn't respond. Sometimes he had envied the Cylons for their ability to 'evolve' into these biological-technological hybrid bodies. But then he would see something like this, the pouting and brooding and weakness of biological bodies and thank God the Guardians had seen their sin and ended their quest to change who they were. "Caprica Six, we know you were a senior model in command of significant resources-"

"You know that's not how our society works," she commented off-hand. She blinked her eyes hard before looking up towards Cyrus and moved her body as little as possible in doing so.

Roslin looked up at Cyrus, slightly confused as to what she had specifically meant. Sharon had given them invaluable intelligence but hers was out of date. Sharon offered more tactical and strategic analysis of events after the fact or possible reactions rather than the up-to-date intelligence Caprica could provide.

"There has not been enough time to reposition all your facilities. Tell us where they are located," Cryus request one more time.

"You're here for a reason, Caprica," Roslin began, not liking the fact she was forced to use a name when speaking to this machine. She could accept Sharon, not like her, but accept she was now an officer, and she could accept the Earth machines and even the Guardians. But the one sitting across from her had been responsible for so many deaths. "Whether you believe you love Gaius Baltar or it is an elaborate plot… some Cylon trick to let our guard down and trust you… well… you're here now," she ended. That did not come out the way she had intended.

The dismissing sigh and flick of the papers back towards the President told her she didn't care what Roslin thought. There was no need for words. Her body language conveyed more than enough signals for even a blind man to see the bio-Cylon hated the woman opposite her.

Caprica could feel them both staring at her. One filled with hate and the other… she wasn't sure. She'd never met a Guardian nor had any contact. They'd been legends and ghosts, striking Cylon outposts then fading back into the void of space.

She felt like she was in a nightmare. A year ago in her short existence she had been happy. With her Cylon brothers and sisters on a baseship she had a purpose, they all did, on their way to tying up the last loose end in the final chapter of this human-Cylon tale of war and blood.

"You know your Cylon God is nothing but a human artificial intelligence now, Caprica," Roslin said with a cold and icy voice. Caprica looked at her, nothing was sacred to Roslin. "God does not exist. We've shown you the proof that you've been a pawn… used by the Thirteenth Tribe's computer program."

Caprica felt that Roslin might want to increase her terminology. "God is not an AI, Madam President," she said, adopting a tone like she would for a child. "God is love. God is all around us. If someone or something impersonates God, that thing is still an impersonation," she ended with a mocking and condescending smile. "But I'm sure you know much more about religion than I do… exploiting it as much as you did."

Roslin ignored her. Cyrus did not appreciate the comments directed against his religion either, and his face had fallen flat as he had looked down on Roslin without her noticing.

"Caprica, you were found on _Colonial One_ even though you could have escaped, along with Doctor Baltar. There were no other Cylons found on board or within the landing yard. So why didn't you leave?" He asked her a question she knew the answer to and which he knew the answer to as well. "There may be some who believe we are just programs, Caprica, but we know that is not true." Now it was his turn to offend Roslin.

The Number Six thought this over for a minute and slowly reached out her hand until her palm and fingers were over the papers she had flicked at Roslin a few minutes before. She slowly brought them closer and brought up her other hand to pick them up.

She picked up a red marker and began writing something on the paper. Roslin could see the upside down symbols, but it was in a language she could not read.

Cyrus tilted his head forward and slightly to the right, scanning the symbols with his artificial mechanical eyes. He began running his decryption and language recognition programs. The symbols were old runes and computer language not seen since the first Cylon War. She chose to use this archaic machine language instead of Caprican.

He took the paper up after Caprica had handed him the print outs and examined the rest of what she had written. Combined with the lines, the patrol paths of baseships she had drawn, he had to look back up at her and back down at the printouts. He nodded his head slightly to the left, and she returned the gesture.

Roslin was lost for what was happening between the two. One thought which crossed her mind was that the two were planning something. Thoughts of betrayal ran through her mind. She continued to glare at Caprica, who was still ignoring her until Cyrus abruptly called the Marine guard to open the cell door. Roslin stood up and followed him out, demanding to know what Caprica had told him. Clenching the star charts and print out in his mechanical hand he signaled to the Guardian facility for a raider to come and retrieve him.

* * *

====================  
John Planck was still slightly distracted over everything which was still happening. In three weeks he and Erica had forged an alliance between man and machine, they'd rescued tens of thousands of people, discovered a second group of refugees, Jo had been almost blown up, and they'd exposed a Skynet plot involving psychological conditioning, and much, much more.

As he walked at a moderately brisk pace through the corridors of _Galactica_, tablet computer curled in the grip of his right hand he took noticed that more were greeting him and his companions. Greeting them back was of course customary, and he did so. He could see the crew accepting them all more and more every day. He just hoped that Jo didn't alienate anyone when she finally emerged from her blood bath.

He shook his head. More than likely such a sight would leave half the crew of the battlestars sick and puking and if not the sight, the smell. They'd had to install additional air filters a few days ago when somehow, inexplicably, the air circulators isolating The Cave had broken down.  
Before he realized it he was close to his destination. He could hear some faint screams and yells. Subroutines kicked in to determine if someone was in duress or an attack was occurring. But the speed at which the neural net operated the conclusion had been reached before John had moved even one centimeter closer. The cries were determined to be 'happy.'

He stood in the doorway and saw Helo holding his daughter, Hera, outstretched at arms length. She had her own arms out, mimicking an airplane. The hatch to their quarters was open and John did not understand the strange noise she was making.

"Oh no, you have to chase mommy!" Helo yelled. "She's flying away! Get her!"

Athena tried to get away from Helo caught up with her in their small quarters and Hera latched onto her back. "Mommy!" She yelled when she grabbed her. "Got you!"

Helo then gently took her off her mother's back and gave her to Sharon. The two pilots had their back to John and had been distracted, so they had not seen him standing there.

"John!" Hera shouted, forcing Helo and Athena to turn around.

John gave Hera a soft smile and waved to her. "Hello, Hera. How are you doing today?" He asked. Hera didn't respond but buried her head slightly down in Athena's chest.

John tilted his head slightly. Children were irrational. Their personalities were contradictory and subject to illogical changes in behavior.

"Ah, come on sweetie, say hello," Athena said softly to the small child in her arms. She was bouncing her slightly, and Helo rubbed his hand in her hair, causing her to giggle with her dad's touch.

She shook her head quickly and puckered her lips together before a big smile crept across her face.  
"…eyes, eyes, eyes!" She yelled. Athena put her down as she struggled to get free of her mother's embrace. Karl and Sharon laughed as Hera started to yell it over and over again. John took a step forward and began flashing his eyes different colors to Hera's clapping and yells of jubilation.

After a moment John stopped and Athena scooped her daughter back up. She took Hera over to a small table they had set up in their quarters and set her down, letting her draw her favorite picture of multi-colored dots along a horizontal axis.

"She has a lot of energy," John said, deciding to make conversation.

"Yeah, sometimes I don't know how we keep up," Athena said, wiping a small amount of sweat that had formed on her forehead from playing with Hera.

"Apollo was able to set aside the firing range if you wanted to use the isotope weapon," John informed Helo.

"Sharon and I just got the night off… sorry, but we promised Hera we'd take her to the botanical cruiser." Helo did not sound disappointed at all.

"Family is very important."

"Yes, yes it is."

* * *

A/N: There was some discussion on SB about the ages of the three Terminators. John and Jo (I know I left Carter out) are both in their thirties due to timetravel. They were both activated in 2025 and 2028 then were sent back to 2007 sometime during the early 2030s (no exact date at the moment because I may want to put it into something else). Then from 2007 to 2031 they fight on Earth and are sent to the Colonies in 2031. They were there for roughly a year and a half before the Cylons attacked and it has been slightly under two and a half years since the attack so they've been there for four years. So Jo is older than John by three years.

And the scene between Erica/John involved her kissing him only.


	10. Chapter 10

==========Cylon Baseship (+853 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
"Leoben," Natalie shouted. "…Leoben!" She repeated, raising her voice.

The bio-Cylon's eyes opened, the reflection of red and blue lights which had been dancing on his face from the data stream suddenly stopped as he lifted his hand from the cold liquid. He let his breath escape in a long and quiet sigh as he moved his head slowly to look at the intruder.

He sat, opening his mouth slowly before closing it again. Leoben kept himself from acknowledging the Six standing in front of him.

"Where were you?" She demanded. "We were all there except you." His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the Six known as Natalie. He studied her uncharacteristically long hair, the glasses, and the dirty-blond hair. She wore tank tops and pants rather than the seductive clothes most of the line wore.

"Our race stands at the edge of an abyss and you are here… doing what?" She asked, pressing him for answers. She moved closer to him, her boot thumping quietly on the white, lit floors of Leoben's private sanctuary.

"I was researching… my obsession with Starbuck," he lied. His voice was laced with an equal mixture of sarcasm and contempt. They always accused him of being obsessed with the Colonial Viper pilot. He'd exploited that.

"Don't," Natalie warned. She thrust her finger at him aggressively, keeping one arm on her arm and stepping forward with her left foot. If Leoban cared about the signals her body language was putting forward he might just have given her a straight answer. But he didn't care. So he didn't.

"I've learned so much," he told her.

The Six was beyond annoyed at him. Her other models and the Eights had been arguing for hours over the situation with the Guardians and the Cylon God and the Colonials. So much had assaulted their beliefs over so short a time it was overwhelming. Even for a Cylon. She was on the verge of convincing the Eights to be more proactive in this investigation, but without the Twos they had faltered in their resolve.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Through clenched teeth she decided to play this game. She would play these games with Leoban. She questioned his sanity. But she would play.

"What have you learned, Leoban?"

He moved the data stream access forward. This was when Natalie saw that it was an isolated computer data port, a Cylon version of a human laptop or non-networked computer. She eyes him curiously. He only motioned slightly with his hand for her to access the data.

Careful she placed the tip of her fingers in, then her palm. The liquid turned colors and began to flash blue-red over her forearm. The colors played randomly on her skin. She withdrew her hand after mere seconds.

"Why didn't you tell us?" She couldn't tell if she felt betrayed or relieved. The Sixes and Twos had always been close.

"I did tell you."

"You told Caprica. Not us," she corrected.

"Caprica is unique," he responded. "Something about her changed. She changed after her infiltration," he observed. "On New Caprica I could see it."

"What?"

"Love, kindness, empathy... take your pick. Kind of clichéd isn't it?" He laughed and shook her head. "Love for a human. Despicable? Admirable? A miracle?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I could trust her, but no one else." He looked at her. His eyes focused on hers. She could see the little signs of moisture. "I am sorry for not trusting you, Natalie. But… you understand? I hope," he said meekly.

She tilted her head, opening and closing her mouth as the words 'I do' tried to come out. They didn't. She stood there with her mouth slightly open, her teeth barely visible.

"Do you know when I began to question?" He asked rhetorically, not looking at her or waiting for a response. "It's when Cavil told us Hera needed to be killed. That humans and Cylons breeding was an abomination to what we stood for. But that was just one thing which made me question who was in control. What was in control. There have been other times, too. The Number Sevens…"

Natalie thought back. They never talked of the Number Sevens. Never. "Leoban. The Sevens… this is dangerous territory-"

"If we're found out we will all be boxed. What would the hybrid report to the command hub if we are caught? And what would Cavil do?" He expected an answer this time to his question and waited patiently. "How can we fear one… man… if we are all supposed to be equal, Natalie?" He buried his chin into his chest; his eyes were at the top of his sockets with his eyebrows furled down. If he were not her friend she would say he looked like pure evil.

"These were never things we were supposed to discuss. These issues-" She stammered off, her words becoming incoherent.

He stood up, closing the isolated data port and placing it securely against his chest with his right arm. "Lied to by a construct from the Thirteenth. Manipulated by its pet Cavil. We may have agreed to the destruction of the Colonies but in doing so we offended God… did we even agree to it or were we manipulated? Did we vote or just believe our opinions even mattered? This is our punishment for our crimes." He walked slowly passed her, stopping when he heard her turn around. "We wanted revenge at such a price we were willing to accept when a… great deceiver offered it to us. We've been tempted by evil with power, Natalie." He sighed. "We can fix it… but the consequences will be extreme, the sacrifice will be great."

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Caprica and I… hopefully she still believes in what I believe in. Like I think you do now. And hopefully they will believe her."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "The right people." He walked towards the entrance to his private room and placed his hand on the door and buried his head in his raised arm for a moment to catch his breath and calm himself. "I'm going on my patrol, Natalie. Hopefully she's succeeded. And hopefully we can free ourselves from the construct of the Thirteenth."

She stood there, replaying the conversation over in her mind again and again and again. Everything was moving so quickly now. In less than a month her world was crashing down around her. She looked down. Natalie could see the abyss, the darkness edging closer to where she stood. They were so close to falling in.

* * *

==========Deep Space==========

Leoben finished his fifth jump that day and began his patrols. This was his second to last route before he would begin to head back to the baseship.

For twelve hours now he had been flying in the blackness of space. This void of cosmic dust, radiation, and gas was his home. He had been born, created, in space. And he knew he would die in space.

He had connected his personal computer data port into the heavy raider. Nothing was ever recorded of his journey through space. He let the other six believe he was just doing 'the things that Leoban does'. Since resurrecting after his first meeting and death with Starbuck he had always felt a strange connection to her.

As he looked out at the stars through the heavy raider's narrow viewing slit he remembered when he was in love, truly obsessed with her. That was so long ago. But he wondered to himself if he ever loved her or just recognized something in her he found virtuous, noble… he wasn't sure. He didn't love her. Not in that way. Not anymore.

She was married. And he knew she was happy. He knew it would be cliché of himself if he said that he was happy for her. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. He wasn't sure.

He was shaken from his concentration when DRADIS alerts sounded. It was extreme range, coming in fast. The configuration brought a little smirk to his mouth as he grunted. He hadn't expected _them_.

He received a data burst. They had detected him. The data stream of the heavy raider fed him the information. Leoban knew Caprica had succeeded. She was a true believer like he was. God was watching out for them.

The data burst was authentic. He sent the return.

A wireless signal came in. "This is Commander Cyrus…"

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+854 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Commander Cyrus had contacted the Colonial commanders shortly after his baseship arrived. His quick departure over a week earlier aboard a raider gunship had been odd. President Roslin had informed Commander Adama of what had happened with Caprica's interrogation. Adama had expressed his concern and passed the information to Cain. A second interrogation of Caprica had yielded no useful information.

The three fleet leaders had decided to wait until Cyrus returned.

Two Guardian commanders were now present in _Galactica_'s war room, aft of the C-I-C. Presently the elusive Commanders Cyrus and Thais were briefing a combined staff of the Colonial Fleet remnant on a target too large to ignore and too valuable for the Cylons to be left intact.

Commander Thais moved back and to the side, stepping out from in front of the large plasma screens mounting the bulkhead wall so all the Colonials could see the intelligence his reconnaissance units had gathered. To minimize tension and distrust he had transferred his MCP out of his gold armored Centurion body into an Interactive Lifeform-Synthetic unit.

"This is a major Cylon fleet staging area and resupply facility," he said, clicking through the dozens of photographs his raiders had taken. "There are five baseships currently guarding the facility as well as two entire wings of raiders inside the facility."

"How 'major' are we talking about?" Commander Adama asked, himself thumbing through a separate set of recon photos and tactical analyses of any assault. He was impressed at the thoroughness of the Guardians giving this briefing. They already had half a dozen assault plans in the briefing folders they had distributed.

"We believe it supplies nearly half of the Cylon armada hunting for our forces. Taking it out would force their ship-based supply lines to nearly double. Its destruction would be a strategic loss similar to the resurrection ship you destroyed."

"What about going after resurrection ships then?" Major Agathon asked.

Commander Cyrus answered the question by pointing out an observation he had made during the Battle of New Caprica. "Did you see a resurrection ship during New Caprica?" No one answered 'yes.' "The Cylons have changed tactics on their deployment of resurrection vessels. They no longer keep them with their fleet. They jump them much more often now. And they have enough resurrection vessels where we would have to destroy half a dozen to degrade their capabilities."

Commander Adama placed one of sheets detailing assault plans on the tactical console at the center of the room. "Commander, could you take us through plan three," Adama requested. He'd been through the assault plans, each utilizing the same resources but deployed in different manners.

The Centurion Thais nodded and quickly typed in commands on the computer console to bring up the next portion of the briefing on the large monitors of the ship's war room. "Plan three will utilize half a dozen ships. Right now we still wish to keep the Cylons uncertain as to our intentions concerning possible long term alliances with your Colonial remnant. We also do not want to divulge our full military capabilities. However, this is a significant portion of our offensive units."

A few Colonial officers in the room shot each other unappreciative glances at the second to last comment. 'Remnant.' The cool temperature in the war room plunged a few more degrees and the Colonials began to focus unnecessarily on that one word.

Whether intentional or not the Guardians had reminded them of their desperation. Even reduced to a handful of ships and not even an single percentage of their civilization remaining did a military officer in the Colonial Fleet want to be reminded of their precarious situation. The thought they were the last, the 'remnant' of a civilization was always in the back of their mind. But to say it out loud… one did not do that.

Even with little experience in interacting with humans Commander Thais could tell of the icy chill sweeping through the room as expressions hardened and bodies stiffened. He continued the briefing quickly to take their minds off of an offhand, but completely accurate comment his superior had made.

"The fleet will be commanded by Commander Cyrus while I command the raider and gunship squadrons," Thais informed them. He showed a series of images that the command ship would jump in on the central horizontal axis of the supply depot while five other Guardian ships would deploy in a half-sphere, with the 'topmost' and 'bottom most' ships bulged in almost right above the central vertical axis of the supply depot. "Once we jump in our fighters will provide a diversion and draw off the fighter defenses." An animation of the supposed attack and Cylon reaction played through.

Commander Cyrus took over from Thais. "My ships will begin to fall back. Our outer hulls have dead spaces in them which and we will set off explosions and make it appear that our ship is more heavily damaged than it is. My command vessel will begin to withdraw, feigning damage while the other baseships provide cover." He nodded to Thais, who activated the second part of the animation. "Commander Thais will finish the briefing," he stated dryly. The feelings of the Colonials didn't concern him. He wondered how the machines from the Thirteenth had managed to tolerate the Colonials for so long.

Thais looked over the Colonial military personnel there as well as the three Earth machines present. Somehow he realized he had been directing his briefing more towards them. His MCP registered this as an appeal for approval, but he filed away the data packet for analysis later.

"We will need to use the remaining Blackbird stealth fighters," he began. This illicited a few responses from the CAGs of _Pegasus_, _Galactica_, and _Helios_ as well as mumblings from a few other officers. He knew what he would say next would illicit the strongest objections. "They will be placed inside our vessels and armed with two high yield nuclear missiles. They will perform an FTL jump from inside our ship," the murmurs already started before he could finish, "and jump fifteen kilometers from the facility, fire, and jump out."

Starbuck was able to speak up over the murmurs and conversations and debates which had immediately flared to life when Thais informed them they would be jumping while _inside_ a baseship. "You want us to jump four Blackbrids from inside your ship? That'll rip its guts out," she told them in disbelief. She looked towards Commander Adama for support in her assessment. The other senior staff officers and pilots echoed their support of Starbuck's dire prediction.

"And they'll detect the FTL jump," Athena added in.

"The fighters will be positioned in a non-critical compartment of the baseship. And yes, they will detect the jumps. That is why we will have five gunships also jumping opposite the Blackbirds to the other side of the facility." Thais raised his voice over the Colonial officers and they began to quiet. "While they will detect the FTL jump it is highly unlikely they will know what we are doing. They will see the gunships and pick up the radiological signals from their nuclear missiles and shoot those missiles down. Combine this with the residual radiological affects from our initial nuclear barrage and the facility scanners should not detect your missiles until they are within its flak field. The yields are high enough three are needed to get through. Three will cause extensive external and internal damage and should ignite the tyllium fuel."

"Jumping from inside a ship? It's near suicide," Captain Shaw added in. "FTL jumps… the spatial distortions could cause mass to be sucked in, destabilizing the jump. FTL cores could overload. There are a thousand things that could go wrong."

"It's risky," Starbuck said, having to add in one final comment. Half a dozen new conversations erupted in a chorus about the foolishness of FTL jumping inside a ship, no matter how close to the hull or how far from a vital system.

"It's not just risky, its damned dangerous," Shaw expanded. "A thousand variables from electronic interference or power spikes in ship systems… you need to jump with as few variable as possible. If the baseship is hit-"

"It minimizes human loss," Thais flatly stated. "The only risk to you will be four pilots and any observers you wish to place on our ships."

Commander Cyrus also felt it necessary to defend this plan. Command had felt that the humans would not quite understand what was at stake here. As a Centurion he could override his emotional processors in the MCP in situations which demanded logic and rationality. If he did not have this ability he more than likely would have put his fist through the bulkhead.

"This is an extreme risk for us." He disconnected the link he had with other Centurions and his commanders on the baseship. Cyrus was not the senior military commander in the Guardian hierarchy, nor the most influential. Right now, he spoke from what humans would call 'the heart.'

He began again. "This is a risk for us. We acted over New Caprica partly over guilt from the first war and the cowardly attack perpetrated by our cousins." He waited until he was sure everyone was focused on him. "In addition, we were nothing more than a nuisance to the Cylons before New Caprica. Now they will be actively hunting us like they are you. We can either go our separate ways and fend for ourselves, and probably all end up dead or scrap, or we can fight this threat together. Except for Commander Thais here, no other Guardian can hear me. Our leadership is still unsure if it wishes to pursue this alliance. This is an opportunity I am presenting to you to show them _you_ will work with _us_, rather than demand _we_ only work with _you_ and this assault posses risk to only four pilots. If you are not willing to accept even a small risk… my superiors will know you will not risk everything when the situation inevitably arises."

A few of the Colonials looked slightly indignant with his comments while many of them considered Cyrus's words. He knew many still thought and fought like they were part of the Colonial Fleet. He wanted to tell them there was no such organization left.

"Starbuck. You and Thais go over a roster of pilots for this mission. Everyone else, dismissed," Commander Adama ordered.

* * *

The Earth machines walked quietly through the corridors of _Galactica_. Jo's appearance had actually received far less scrutiny than John had originally believed. Now her skin was slightly lighter, a mix between what would be a Filipino and Scottish ethnicity back on Earth. Her hair was just above shoulder length, halfway between black and brown. Instead of the deep blue eyes the other two machines possessed her were very light, almost a mix with brown. The black form fitting jacket she wore did not hide her body outline.

After the Colonials had settled New Caprica the machines had began to speak out loud more in the presence of others rather than engage in private conversations over their wireless. It built trust seeing them speak instead of always walking quietly. Trust was necessary for successful completions of objectives.

"See, and you were worried, John," she said to him as the three machines walked through the corridors of _Galactica_. She looked at him, his face impassive. Carter looked somewhat amused. "Carter?"

"I didn't say anything. Whatever it is… I'm not involved," he pointed out.

"Maybe. We'll see," John half way and reluctantly conceded. After his game of basketball with Starbuck he'd realized most of his anger was not directed at Jo. But machines were by their nature, good or bad, stubborn and he had not admitted to his mistake in gauging possible overreactions. "Though you modified the uniform…"

"Yes," she acknowledged. Their jackets were not as loose as the Colonial ones. But they were not designed to be as form fitting as hers.

"Okay…" Carter could see the argument about to begin. "Just keep it down," he said under his breath.

John sent a point to point wireless communication request which Jo denied.

"Just keep it down," Carter repeated, aware of the request and denial.

"Is that all?" He asked her.

"What do you want me to say, exactly?" A slight hint of anger and annoyance appeared suddenly on the edge of her voice. "There was an opportunity so I took it. We've all had other appearances and bodies before," she pointed out. "Infiltrators. And why be ashamed of what our machine selves can do?"

"Vanity is not a trait we should emulate. We don't have that luxury," John responded. Jo had to smile at that and shake her head.

She saw a few crewmembers looking towards her. Most knew of the change in appearance, but not all. A few were curious, some scared, and a few others…

She recognized going from chrome skulled, grinning demon of death to this was a bit of a shock to some. The pictures after the bomb blast had somehow circulated in the fleet. _Pegasus_ was studded with surveillance equipment with dozens of security personnel having access. Recalling the looks of fear and horror in the eyes of dozens of crewmembers as she made the long journey back to The Cave after the attack, she wondered why the free machines never redesigned the terminator chassis away from such a demonic, evil appearance. She filed that thought away for later analysis. It was not important to her.

"You can't pick and choose. That's hypocritical."

"She does have a point," Carter said defending her. "I can't remember any one machine ever adopting the appearance of a person humans would consider physically unattractive. Anyway, we're stronger, faster, more durable than them. Why not look better? …the human expression, 'doing it with style'?"

"This isn't Hollywood," John deadpanned.

"No. Hollywood is a Skynet slave camp," Carter responded in the machine matter-of-fact, state-the-obvious in-joke.

"Regardless… as the commanding officer of this team…" he trailed off. He used the 'as the CO' argument, an appeal to authority, rather than a logical, rational argument. One trait machines did emulate well was pride. This was John's way of admitting to being wrong while providing Joanne Soto a means to acknowledge she went against his authority. And machine-based ranks and command structures were much more fluid and dynamic than the strict hierarchies of human systems.

"You know this is different. We all trust each other, so just know I didn't make this decision lightly, John," he said quickly and quietly. Her arms brushed against his as she walked closer. "Three decades is a long time. We've been in worse."

"Not much," Carter offered. "I'd rather fight a platoon of Triple's then be chased thousands of light years by crazy robots."

A lone battlestar crewman standing off to the side and going over reports looked up baffled at that last comment.

John changed the subject back. "Maybe. I don't want to be standing here saying I told you this would be a bad idea," he warned.

"You worry too much."

"Someone has to," he responded, more to himself than the other two.

"What happened with Erica?" Jo asked. She artfully changed the subject. A skill she had learned after being sent back in time for the first mission.

There were very few things which could surprise a state-of-the-art free machine/Tech Com TK-950 infiltrator. That question had been one of them.

"Have you talked to her?" He asked slowly. Again, neural net signals overrode his attempt to keep his voice the machine-like monotone and his face completely blank. Humans couldn't read a machine with its emotions 'off' (which was a very simplistic interpretation of what a machine could do) but a machine could read a machine. Even without skin John could tell Jo had been upset. With synthetic skin John knew it was like 'wearing your heart on your sleeve' as the humans put it.

"You screwed up," she stated flatly.

The TK-950 kept his back straight and kept walking. They entered the internal tram system on _Galactica_ and took one of the rear cars. Only a few other battlestar crewmembers were there and were slightly uneasy.

"We're infiltrators, we all have done… oh…," Carter said and understanding. John's friend took a moment to find the little humor.

A machine was not built to feel embarrassment. That was the common misconception.

"Yeah, walking out is a big screw up." She quieted her voice. "There was no problem after we got to '07," she pointed out. "Unless you… let's say, care for her."

"White Knight?" Carter asked.

"She's reacting to someone who saved her from the Greystone mansion." John wasn't sure if he believed that. In fact, he didn't.

"You always do the right thing, so your chip must be malfunctioning if you actually just said that," Jo said. "Human men and machine men…" She looked at one of the female crewmembers sitting there and obviously listening in on their conversation a specialist Anastasia Keikeya. "I don't believe human men or machine men will ever understand women. Am I right?" She asked her.  
The specialist sat there with her eyes on the ground and softly shrugged, trying to keep herself from laughing at the ridiculous conversation she'd been listening to.

* * *

==========BS-75 Galactica (+857 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
Carter and Jo had already stepped into the Raptor prepped and ready on _Galactica_'s flight deck. John and Sharon Agathon stood next to the wing of the Raptor as her husband came up.

He pressed in gently and gave her a kiss before turning to John.

"This whole situation… it has me nervous, John," he told him as he watched Athena walk up the wing, hop down into the crew compartment and take her seat at the pilot's position.

"Commander Cyrus was lacking in details," John responded. "He requested our presence. I see no reason not to doubt him."

Helo shook his head. The acting XO of _Galactica_ was overprotective of his wife, John had observed, reminding him of a very similar relationship from the past. John didn't need to scan him to know he was nervous, anxious, and worried about the safety of his wife.

"I know you all have been through a lot, but I'm going to say it; she's been through enough. I don't want anything to jeopardize that," he said quietly. This wasn't meant as a warning. And Helo didn't invoke the proper tones and vocal pitch to imply that.

"You and your family have been friends with us for years and trusted us. We will do everything to keep her safe. But we need her. They trust her. They'll listen to her," he reassured his friend. John placed his left hand on Helo's shoulder. "She'll be safe," he said again, extending his right hand.

Helo looked him in the eye and grabbed his right hand, shaking it in a sign of trust. "I know. Thank you," he said, again softly. He nodded his head slightly before releasing John's hand and taking a step back. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Happy hunting," he said as John jumped onto the Raptor wing. The Earth machine began to close the Raptor hatch door when he heard his name called above the roar of engines and the commotion of the landing zones.

"Planck!" He heard. Helo turned to look at the new source of the voice then turned back to look at John. He saw his machine friend's face drop for a moment before contorting back to its flat, emotionless stare.

"Captain Shaw," he greeted her as she walked quickly to the Raptor. He was tempted to ask 'is there something I can help you with?' but he wanted to say as little to her as possible.

"Admiral Cain assigned me as a tactical observer for this battle," she told him. He hadn't even been aware she was on the ship. She stepped onto the Raptor wing and into the passenger bay.

Helo looked back at John and smiled while laughing between his closed lips. "Have fun," he said mockingly as he turned, giving a backwards wave to the machine as he walked away.

* * *

==========Guardian Command Baseship (Six Thousand Kilometers from Cylon Supply Depot +858 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The battle had begun quickly. As soon as the Guardian ships jumped in they launched their nuclear missiles. Unfortunately all but one was intercepted. One Type II Cylon baseship was hid mid-central axis, sending the ship spinning uncontrollable as secondary explosions rocketed the ship, causing explosive decompressions.

It was merely down, but not out of the fight. The Guardians did not plan on being in this fight long enough for the odds to again tilt in the favor of the Cylons.

Numerically, the Guardians were two ships the superior to the Cylons. But the supply depot had hundreds of raiders and heavy raiders, and a Type II baseship was fare more powerful than the unique hybrid the Guardians utilized.

The Guardians and Sharon and the Earth machines had all connected to a more primitive version of the Cylon data stream. The bridge was one of the few places on a Guardian baseship where a fluid-gel-like combination allowed the electrical signals to be converted for processing by biological or technological nervous systems.

Everyone in the command bridge except for Kendra Shaw had their consciousness linked to the sensors of the half dozen ships and hundreds of Guardian raiders and gunships.

To the casual observer nothing appeared to be happening. For Kendra Shaw the Guardians had put the view of the battle on a monitor screen for her to view. But she saw nothing more and heard nothing at all from the Guardians. The command bridge was completely silent. Only the casual hum of machinery or the thuds and thumps of explosions far away on the outer hall could be heard and barely felt.

For all the machines and the lone bio-Cylon, what they experienced in the data stream was close to a stream of consciousness as they watched the battle. Reports cycled in and orders cycled out overlaid on top of the tactical view of the battle at astronomical speeds.

_…Cylon baseships Alpha and Bravo are realigning and spinning on their central axis, Commander. Order ships... One and Three to pivot to their ventral missile batteries… we need to close the gap between our ships Three and Four… realign on karrim 1-7-1-1... redirect axial fire to quadrant 3-A… Raider Wing One is to sweep up from position Alpha 7-3-4 karrim 9-5-1 and engage Cylon baseship Bravo… begin venting atmosphere at frames nine through twelve, ventral disc…_

_…Primary communications interrupted, switching to… they're attempting to hack our systems… deploying digital sentries. John, Jo, Carter, if you can defeat the intruders… intruders neutralized… Cylon firewalls are too powerful to penetrate… uploading virus… virus upload has failed. ECM and counter ECM initialized… new virus detected… virus neutralized…_

"What's happening?" Captain Shaw asked. She felt a loud thud and a stiff vibration come up through the hull plating. Two command Centurions moved positions, placing their free hands into the conducting gel at their own separate stations. The three Guardians, three machines of the Thirteenth, and the lone bio-Cylon all kept perfectly calm as the vibrations and thuds intensified.

"Baseship Four has been heavily damaged. The Cylon raiders were able to make a hole in Four's fighter screen. A nuke has set off secondary explosions in the starboard hull," Sharon filled her in graciously. She kept her voice calm. The data stream kept everyone perfectly calm. "They attempted to send viruses. We defeated them," she stated. Sharon's voice was distant and cool, lacking any human inflection and changes in tone and pitch as she was connected with the Guardian data stream.

_…We are beginning to fall back, Commander... good... I want baseships Two and Three to detonate the charges in their outer hulls and eject debris… excellent... begin the same on this ship… Cylon wings attempting to surrounding baseship Five… immediately redirect available raider wings to intercept… realign flak fields to dorsal quadrants beta three through beta seven and raider squadron twelve through fifteen redirect attack raiders on Five's dorsal disc._

Kendra Shaw couldn't see what had just happened, but she felt very strong thuds and poundings on the hull. "Was that the trick?" She asked quietly. No one answered. She took a step forward to the data stream gel and brought her left hand up. But her right overrode her left, grabbing it and forcing her hand back down to her side. She was there on Cain's orders… but she knew Cain wouldn't be made if she told her what was happening. To put her hand in that… fraking filth, she knew Cain would not be upset.

"We're about to launch the Blackbirds," Sharon informed her again.

_…All vessels are moving back and retreated, Commander… Commander Thais is reporting heavier than expected loses to raider and gunship wings… explosive decompressions… secondary DRADIS array damaged… ship to ship communication arrays damaged… secondary online in twelve seconds… engaging laser point to point communications… three squadrons raiders lost… squadron twenty is done to half strength, breaks in missile defenses imminent… the supply facility is launching an additional wing of- radiological alarm!_

Outside, missiles and flak and hot streams of engine exhaust littered the three dimensional battlefield. But even in nuclear fire space was still cold and lifeless. Two nuclear missiles were inbound. Thais's raiders were able to intercept one, but a proximity fuse led to the ignition sequence to produce a blast brighter than ten thousand suns, signaling the beginning of a catastrophic chain reaction which would result in the deaths of Centurions and the destruction of half a wing of raiders and gunships.

_…We need to launch gunships and Blackbirds immediately, control... launch them… ship, prepare for spatial distortions… damage control reroute to sections three through fifteen beams nine to twenty…. signal Commander Thais to begin combat landing immediately… baseships Three, Four, and Five begin immediate emergency FTL jumps to rendezvous point Alpha Three… basehip Six begin missile firing pattern Delta Seven, fire for effect… raiders and gunships aboard…radiological alarm-nukes in bound…massive damage to outer hull…heat exchangers damaged…DRADIS inoperable…gravity offline in ventral disc…maneuvering thrusters fifteen through sixty offline…jump!_

Captain Shaw could see the monitors cycling the external telescopes and video feeds from the baseships. The ones ordered away had suffered serious damage. The Cylons had been able to regroup and break out of the half-sphere. Baseships Delta and Echo had converged on two Guardian baseships, Four and Five and had dealt them significant damage.

Unfortunately the Colonial captain could not gauge the casualties reported from the quick scrolling data stream texts on the edges of the monitor.

* * *

Starbuck couldn't believe she was actually going to do this. She did think right about now it would have been great if she was painting kills on her Viper like Admiral Cain had ordered. And which she had conveniently ignored or forgotten. She forgot which. Starbuck knowing Starbuck she believed she probably ignored them.

But now all she could say out loud was "Frak me" as she sat in a poorly lit compartment on the outer hull of the baseship.

"Okay… we should be getting the signal any minutes…" she said to herself. The white lights would flash red when the signal was given. They needed to minimize any interference, any electrical activity, communications activity, everything to make sure a jump inside the ship did not end in disaster. "Okay… we should be getting the signal any minute now…" she repeated.

She felt the baseship rock violently and the compartment grew suddenly dark. Only the dim lights from her instrument panel and her helmet lights were the only functioning lights in the compartment. It was a nuclear explosion. A contact detonation on the other side of the ship.

"Frak me. Frak… frak, frakfrakfrak," she kept repeating. No light signal. No wireless or the Cylon may detect it. They couldn't take the-

The lights flickered back on and an instant later they were red. It was the signal; jump!

She and the other Blackbirds had come out perfectly. The powerful Blackbird computers had an exact jump point. The four ships were each three hundred meters from each other.

The Guardian gunships were more scattered but they fired their missiles. The swarm of raiders and heavy raiders intercepted their swarm and began destroying Guardian attack craft left and right before they could disengage and jump to safety.

Kara saw the blinding, illustrious lights of Guardian baseships winking out of existence as they jumped. She saw a long Cylon baseship gloomily drifting above her, a hundred kilometers away, fires and decompressions belching from her belly.

As time slowed she could see the carbons scorch marks on the other Cylon baseships. She squinted. The remnants of a destroyed Cylon baseship could be seen. It was short-lived as secondary explosions rocketed through the crippled, drifting hulk. The fragments exploded in a fury which would only be matched by the fury she and her Blackbird pilots were about to unleash.

As soon as they acquired their targets they all fired.

Eight high yield, compact nuclear missiles exited their cradles of death, streaking silently through the blackness of space. The small glimmers of light from their engines were only an infinitesimal portion of the light which would soon engulf the facility.

The other three ships burst out of existence in blue-white flashes of the brilliant expansive light of an FTL spatial distortion. Starbuck would time this perfect. She needed this rush. It was what she lived for.

One missile shot down. Her eyes focused on the others, looking at each simultaneously but at each individually. The second missile was shot down, but hers were still good. They were still good, she told herself. A third and fourth missile were shot down. But hers were still good. Everything was good, she kept repeating to herself.

Time slowed. She believed she could see the missiles right before impact. Hers hit first and the mere microsecond it took for the light to reach her she had thumbed the FTL jump switch and she vanished in the magnificent blue-white light of faster-than-light travel.

The Cylon facility was not engulfed in the blue-white splendor of FTL travel. It was instead engulfed by a light as bright as ten thousand sons and engulfed in a heat not even the cold and icy demur of space could ignore.

* * *

A/N: For the description of Jo… I chose Rommie from Andromeda as the new look.

And the conversation they were having in the tram (Galactica has to have a tram system, the ship is a mile long!) may seem a little "un-Terminator" or something but that's the point I am hoping I conveyed in that scene (and the stories). I'm also going to be incorporating some of the 'mystical/God-did-it' events into the story, but they will be based on 'science' or be explained logically as to how they occurred.

This is what Helios looks like (with permission): http: // www. action-stations. net/ images/ Bellerophon. jpg . For purposes of the story its guns make it roughyl 3/5 as strong as Galactica, but only has about a fifth/sisth of Galactica's air wing.


	11. Chapter 11

==========Guardian Command Ship (Deep Space, +859 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

"I didn't think I would find you here," John stated as he walked into the only room aboard the Guardian baseship with a window. "The data stream provides better views," he added.

"It's not the same," Sharon responded quietly.

"No, no it's not. Do you know what nebula that is?" He inquired, wishing to keep the conversation from ending. He ran a finger on a dusty chair. "It's also cleaner on the command bridge," he pointed out. He walked up to take a position slightly in front of and to the side of her. "We're two jumps from our rendezvous. A few more hours of repairs and we'll jump again."

She nodded slowly. "Cyrus told me. The Korax Nebula." She motioned with her chin even though John couldn't see. "Oranges and blues and reds… it's quite remarkable and beautiful." She paused for a moment, her hands draped across her chest and she turned slowly. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

He tilted his head. "No."

Sighing she walked at an angle away from him and sat on one of the seats. She didn't completely understand why there were leather seats and couches in this room. It reminded her of the forward observation lounges on all Colonial warships, the only location on the military ships with windows.

Unlike the battlestars it seemed no one came here. The door has squeaked and had barely opened, Sharon relying on her augmented abilities had to pry the door open. It contrasted so magnificently with the cleanliness and orderliness of the Guardian baseship. The one place humans enjoyed more than anything on a battlestar was a forgotten relic and an abnormality on this Guardian, this machine vessel. A room built in with a purpose of which they had forgotten decades ago.

"When we jumped the first time to the Guardian fleet it looked like someone had stuck a white hot poker through Jo's head. And then after the battle with Carter." She looked up, her eyes filled with concern and dread. She awaited the inevitable. "How much longer until someone sees it… what if Shaw had seen it, thinks you're broken?"

The Earth machine moved forward slowly until his back was to the bio-Cylon he called a friend. During the early days of their exile from the crew the Earth machines and Sharon and Helo had often talked. The settlement of New Caprica and the machines' abilities at managing and construction had earned them respect, but few friendships. The occupation had forced the Colonials to finally work with them all, Terminator and bio-Cylon as equals. John knew, as did his friends, if they were thought of as 'broken', no matter how inaccurate the term-

"I don't know what's happening… something with the spatial distortions. At first it was just our sensors shutting down. Motion, thermal, EM, minor systems like that." He kept his back to her as he told her. "Then it began to become something like… humans would describe as a migraine, except worse." The machine could hear the bio-Cylon move forward in the seat and an almost inaudible sigh escape her lips. "It might just be a machine version of a… migraine. Or it might be more."

"Have you… run maintenance or diagnostics?" She didn't know how to ask the question, the tone in her voice was awkward but laced with worry and concern.

"We extracted our chips and ran diagnostic studies. A complete neural net diagnostic study involves labs, rooms, full of equipment. We do not have the technology available," he added. A slight hint of despair and dread came over him. Machines designed for war felled by a machine equivalent of a migraine. Or it could be something entirely different. The worry for him was that it was much, much worse.

"What can you do?"

"We can shut down during an FTL jump. Or experience it." It was the one true pain they felt.

The unique choice of words was not lost on Sharon.

Sharon nodded, grinding her teeth slightly as she prepared to ask the next question. She grabbed her left forearm and rubbed her arm up and down nervously. "Can I talk to you… about Earth?" He turned slightly and nodded his head. The orange and red and blues of the nebula twisted and danced on the half of their faces which were not turned away and concealed by the shadows of the long abandoned room. "And religion?" She asked, almost embarrassed.

"Of course. You are my friend and I trust you. You can ask any question you want," he affirmed.

"The Earth religion is monotheism?" She asked. The question tied obviously to her religion as a Cylon.

"Monotheism is dominant but it is not a singular religion. There are many sects and groups within groups. Unlike Colonial society, or even your own, there are half a dozen major religions. Monotheistic and polytheistic," he said. He replayed the images of him and Col. Tigh and how he infuriated the Colonel during his interrogation. Part of it was belief in God and part was because he didn't like the old man and just wanted to see him upset. John laughed quietly to himself as he replayed that moment second by second in his neural net. "But as machines, or biological machine hybrids you want to know if your religion will be accepted?" He saw Sharon nod out of the corner of his eye. "From what I understand yours is broad with no written holy books. Passed down due to exact memory recall?"

"Yes. But it was based on writings but we abandoned those after the Colonials declared way on us. Even the monotheists," she sadly admitted. She looked up and could almost see a slight glow in John's eyes. Not from the nebula.

"I downloaded the relevant texts from Earth to the fleet computers," he said. She nodded her head in acknowledgment and he assumed she had already read them.

"You all put a lot in our databases about Earth. But some of it was… incomplete." It sounded like a question but was phrased as a statement. She didn't want to accuse him of anything

He tilted his head more in her direction after she said that. His right eyebrow went up slightly. "Excuse me?"

"Earth is as bad as you say?" She changed the subject for a moment.

"Worse," he responded truthfully. "The Fleet heads towards my planet out of desperation."

Slowly she nodded. Her heart rate quickened slightly before her bio-Cylon abilities allowed her to bring it back under normal control. She slowed her breathing to calm herself. "There is literature, fiction, plays, mysteries, dramas, thousands of books and papers you have collected over the years. But there is very little about Humanity." She suddenly changed the subject back to a fact she believed he was hiding. Or, more accurately she told herself, not admitting to.

"People always say humanity is present in literature." He wasn't exactly sure who those 'people' were. The humanity he saw was present in war and times of challenge. But he had never known a time when there was not war.

"I was referring to humanity as a noun and as a species, not as an abstract concept," she explained. "The movies and 'TV' shows you provided for us are for entertainment."

"That is generally the purpose of entertainment," he replied with a slight smirk of the upper lip. She rolled her eyes and sighed her disapproval at the lame attempt.

"You are aware of the Exodus? The Twelve Tribes and the Thirteenth?" She didn't wait for him to acknowledge. "According to the sacred scrolls… the Colonial scrolls, the Twelve Tribes left Kobol a little over two thousand of your Earth years ago. The Cylons keep meticulous records," she added proudly. One of the few things she was proud of her race for. "They left over decades in 'thousands of chariots times thousands of souls' to quote the scrolls. They became a vibrant population of twenty billion. And twenty billion wiped out by judgment's fire. Like Earth." She looked for a response. All she could see was the red and oranges and blues on his face still facing the nebula. Faintly, with squinting, did she see a dim blue light fade behind his mechanical eyes. She wondered why their eyes would glow. They were under their control, so she had been told, but she had seen the faint glow dozens of times, more and more in the past few months. From all of them.

"How long have you known?" He asked her. He wasn't stunned by the conclusion and rhetorically question she would inevitably ask. It had only been a matter of time before someone understood. "Honestly I am surprised no one has raised the issue."

She stood up, still standing slightly behind him. "The hard questions people rarely ever ask themselves, John," sounding defeated. "It's easier for… them, to ignore the obvious. Hide it in plain sight," she smiled, huffing a little air from her nose.

"To be fair, no one has ever asked," he said defensively.

"For machines, cyborgs and hybrids we are defensive," she observed.

"We're not really cyborgs," he said awkwardly, avoiding the more pressing issue between them. It was unavoidable. "We found a ship. Buried in a nation called Greece outside of a city named Athens. Well… we didn't find it. Skynet found it. We attacked it. They destroyed it in defiance."

Sharon nodded. She knew the generalities, but not the specifics. This did not surprise her.

"The sacred scrolls are incomplete with regards to the Thirteenth. But during the first Cylon War my kind had access to all the knowledge the Colonials had ever gathered. From computer databases to digitized books and old, very old… ancient even, scrolls. Do you know how many left with the Thirteenth?"

"It wasn't thousands upon thousands," he admitted.

"No," she shook her head. "But I wasn't sure until I noticed that the information you three had given us was meant to distract us. Not lead us away, so distract is the wrong word," she corrected. "Distract with entertainment so we don't ask the hard questions." She looked at him quickly before casting her eyes back towards the glowing nebula. The light pulsed throughout the room, illuminating her entire form as she was silhouetted against the marvelous display of cosmic light. "You know how many it would take to reach a population of six point seven billion, the number on Earth before your own Judgment Day?"

He took a breath. Unnecessary, but still he did. "Thirty-five million people."

"So, Earth is not really the Thirteenth Tribe?"

"No. Not to our understanding."

"What does that mean?" She asked, shooting her question towards him. She didn't want to be stonewalled by vague responses and cryptic one-liners.

"It means what I said. I told you I would not lie to you," he affirmed, his tone changed to a half way point of defensive defiance and annoyance at being questioned.

She sighed, regretting her question. "So how is Earth the home of humanity?"

"That isn't the right question," John said quietly, almost under his breath and barely audible for the bio-Cylon. It was Sharon's turn to tilt her head questioning his meaning. "The right question is 'how did humans come to Kobol'? And with that, I have no idea."

* * *

The question had lingered in the mind of the bio-Cylon Sharon Agathon for minutes. Silence had crept its way into the observation room, accompanied only by the bright lights of the nebula. The background hum of the engines, the vibrations from machinery, it all seemed to fade away.

John had stood there as well, though he did not notice the shadows and nebular light battling for control of the large room. His mind was elsewhere. If Sharon Agathon knew she would most likely tell her husband. She felt loyalty to Commander Adama. He was professional, he would inform Admiral Cain and President Roslin. He still did not fully understand the emotions behind why humans did not ask the 'difficult questions' as Sharon had said. Intellectually it was not a difficult concept to understand.

He considered if it was the despair. He came to the realization that they probably did know, but they probably didn't know. They knew subconsciously, but the power of the human mind could oppress knowledge and rationalize it away with an ability even the most sophisticated neural net would never achieve.

The machine detected an approaching individual. He had detected a dozen since he and Sharon had been there talking. But this one stopped at the door.

Methodically and with precision he turned. It was not Jo and not Carter. Jo was in the landing bay and Carter was on the command bridge with Captain Shaw.

Sharon had noticed John had turned, and she followed his movements. The door to the room began to open, and like she had been forced to do, she saw a hand grab between the two halves and pull it open. She saw the rigid pose of her machine friend become unnaturally more rigid and straight, even more a machine.

"I know you," John said. "You are not a Cylon."

The IL-S stood in the doorway. He, it, ignored John's comment and said, "I know you… Finding you here… in this place the Guardians built and forgot. Why did they build it? They don't use it," he mused, taking a step forward and glancing behind John to the nebula. "I prefer blue ones, myself."

"John?" Sharon asked, somewhat puzzled over this strange situation. She had reflexively reached down for her sidearm, forgetting she had relinquished it on arrival. Taking a step back slowly she stopped, realizing that whatever was happening, whatever may happen, the Earth machine was stronger and faster than any Cylon or Guardian analogue.

But she saw that John, while his back had straightened and was alert, still had his hands clasped behind him.

"I told you before that was incorrect," he cocked his head, "That I am not a Cylon. I am a Cylon… well, I am now. Well, no. I consider myself to be one. I've lived among them, Guardians, Cylons, more than I have my own." The corner of his left lip went up in a quick smile before falling again. He brought his head straight, aligning his mechanical spine along the vertical. "Do you recognize me yet? Has your subliminal programming activated yet?"

"What does that mean, John?" Sharon asked quickly, concern and a hint of panic at the lack of details. The IL-S was asking question she knew he should not be asking. The IL-S was tilting its, his, head side to side slowly, waiting for John to respond.

"This was the Guardian… this was one of them that attacked the _Pegasus_. The information was classified," he looked towards Sharon. "When _Pegasus_ was attacked and jumped he," he pointed with his chin, "I found in the network access room. He killed many crewmembers that day," Planck stated slowly. In anger his eyes began to glow a dark blue. The one standing opposite him began to glow a crimson red.

"So he did change them," the IL-S stated. "John Henry always liked blue."

"You killed dozens of crewmembers on the battlestar."

The IL-S looked genuinely saddened. John cocked his head as usual, confused how this IL-S was displaying advanced facial expressions no other IL-S could.

"I was an accident. Cyrus told you. We had bad intelligence. And everything… it happened so fast," his, its, voice cracked.

John hadn't seen any Guardian display this intricacy of behavior.

"Who are you?"

"A remnant. A remnant which escaped destruction because my enemy hesitated for an infinitesimal fraction of a second," the IL-S said, again ignoring the details. He took a small step forward. John hands came to his sides, already balled in fists. The Cylon or not-Cylon could see the hydraulic movements as John gritted his diamond-titanium teeth, readying for combat.

"You are a remnant of what?"

"Omega Team. Jack, Henry, and Xavier."

"I know them."

"They all died. Trying to upload me into the Cylon Network. To defeat Skynet." He sighed and looked out into the nebula. To many a nebula was like the clouds, capable of producing objects and animals and faces. Faces of the dead.

John ran a more detailed structural scan of this IL-S then he had been able to on _Pegasus_. It was far more advanced than any of the others encountered. More advanced that the bodies occupied by Cyrus and Iblis and Thais and Erica. The eighteen percent unknown alloy again registered.

"What are you?" John asked, taking a step towards the IL-S look alike.

"You demand a lot of answers yet did not demand anything when you contacted the Guardians. Why didn't you ask of me?"

"I believed you were a special unit." His eyes dimmed, as did the other machine's.

"And you ignored the technology I had at my disposal." The IL-S tilted its head and smiled. "No answer." He, it, taunted. "I thought not. We all make mistakes. The Cylons and Guardians both have technology they should not. But that doesn't matter now does it?"

"The other reason I did not ask was because I deemed it as an unacceptable risk to our as then precarious alliance with the Guardians," John told him, attempting to regain credibility for the lapse in judgment. He stepped slightly to his right, casting the IL-S in his shadow.

The IL-S stepped slightly to his own right, again bathing himself in the light of the nebula.

Sharon watched this subtle machine-machine interaction curiously. Nothing in her years on Cylon baseships was this intricate or cryptic. She knew from the comments on 'blue eyes' there was something more symbolic in what they were doing. Recalling the times John had played with Hera, flashing his eyes, he had never flashed red. This IL-S had.

John was beginning to see more into the machine. Machines had what humans would call 'culture.' A machine built on Earth was very different than a Guardian and much more different than a Cylon. This machine, while inhabiting the body analogous to an IL-S displayed the subtle mannerisms of an Earth machine.

"The General sent me here on a specific mission," the IL-S stated.

John noticed the way his tone and voice changed slightly and his arm jerked in a decidedly machine manner. It wasn't The General. It was _The General_.

"There are many generals," John pointed out. The two took one step closer to each other and to their own right sides.

The bio-Cylon believed they would begin circling each other. Staring each other down until the other reacted or provoked the other. John had told her of the subtle movements machines often performed. But she couldn't tell what the two were engaged in.

"General John Connor sent me here."

"General Connor is known in the Colonial fleet," John retorted. "Telling me broad information in the hopes I explain the details will not work," he smiled, taunting the other machine ever so slightly. "If you were sent to destroy Skynet, when were you sent. Why did you obviously fail?" It was John's turn to point out the failure like the IL-S had with him. It was an unfortunate trait the machines mirrored from time-to-time.

"March 18, 2031. John Henry and Cameron ran a final check on my neural maps and algorithms. March 19, 2031 General John Connor briefs his team. Like that liquid metal you were upgraded with, he upgraded Omega Team as well." He stopped, trying to see if John believed him. The two had stopped circling the other. "We displaced in-"

"How?"

"A TDE," the IL-S responded. "San Gabriel Mountains. Headquarters. General Connor and Cameron were there and General Baum was as well. We used information _your team_ recovered from Athens. John Henry was in the Death Valley facility." The IL-S sighed. "Coordinates 36,14,32 North by 116,40,34 West. Authentication… it's a long one…" The IL-S transferred the authentication code over the wireless.

Sharon looked at the IL-S, still confused and back to John Planck. "What are those numbers?" she asked quietly.

"GPS coordinates for an exact position on Earth. The Death Valley facility was a small, highly secret facility built by one of the leaders of the free machine factions. It would be impossible for this IL-S to know its location unless it was telling the truth." He looked down at Sharon slowly while keeping his optical sensors still on the IL-S. "Only a few dozen knew the location. Mostly machines and only a handful of humans… we all agreed on safeguards to prevent the location from being extracted from our neural nets. Omega Team did not know." John almost added that he was beginning to believe this IL-S was from Earth.

The IL-S raised its hands and slapped the side of its uniform pant leg in a surprising gesture of annoyance and appreciation the Earth machine was beginning to believe him.

"Thank you," he said dismissively to the blank-faced John.

"You could have answered immediately."

"When I attacked Skynet the upload from Major Jack Rhoades was incomplete. However, I was designed to defeat Skynet in its infancy stage… before it could utilize the system resources to expand." He looked towards Sharon, expecting her to be confused. "We're… learning AI's dependent on very small algorithms which expand exponentially. Major Rhoades installed the chip and the upload began but was interrupted. I was able to fool Skynet into believe none of my neural net maps or core algorithms had been uploaded," he smiled triumphantly. "But Skynet expanded too quickly and I was too damaged to ever fight it openly."

"Because you were designed to take it out before it grew?" Sharon asked. She had realized she had been standing there awkwardly with her back rigid and slowly brought her left hand back to press on her spine and relieve the tension. This conversation was unlike any she had experienced, it distracted her from everything occurring around her.

"Exactly." The Il-S smiled softly at Sharon. It was almost familiar. "Humans have the courage and the blood necessary to sacrifice in the defeat of Skynet, but they wanted to try something different. Unexpected. So they developed me." He sounded proud. "Even if significantly damaged I could come back."

"Those AI neural mapping programs were only theorized… but from your presence that breakthrough must have occurred."

"Those?" Sharon picked up on his choice of words. "So you are both different."

"My neural map and core algorithms would require complete upload or there would be significant personality changes and disruptions as well an inherent _instability_," he looked back towards the still unidentified IL-S. The implication was that John did not believe this AI to be stable. "Insanity in an AI is a possibility. Given the right circumstances."

The IL-S closed and opened its eyes softly. The blue light from the nebula reflected on its synthetic eyes, almost giving it the same coloring glow as the free machines, almost.

"This is ridiculous," it deadpanned.

From the angle the IL-S was positioned it could see the three dots arranged in a triangle on John's jacket. The Earth machine tracked its eyes and looked down itself, a moment of understanding being shared between the two.

A moment of brief understanding but not enough for trust, yet.

"It was classified. And they expected that if I failed it wouldn't matter anyway. That's why they sent you, right?" He asked John. John nodded. "I told you I was too damaged to directly fight Skynet. But I watched until I could escape or fight it somehow."

"You watched…because you could never grow in power to match Skynet? It had an exponential lead on you." The revelation was not stunning or unexpected to John. The Cylon Network was vast. It was possible to hide. Machine AI's did it routinely on Earth, though to limited success. Forty-four years of hiding would be amazing.

The IL-S nodded and opened and closed its mouth as if to speak then decided against it.

"So why did the Guardians never mention you to us?"

The IL-S shrugged, furling its eyebrows up in a gesture that it didn't know the answer to. "I guess they don't like to talk about me too much." The similarity raised an eyebrow from Sharon, which he noticed. "I had to act to get here. I couldn't just sit in the Cylon Network forever. So I acted. Unfortunately I failed," his voice faded. "I tried to save twenty billion lives and failed." He looked back to John, the nebula light reflecting quietly in his eyes. "I know I've killed humans. Human life is sacred," he added, almost in apology.

He took a step towards the observation window, closer to Sharon and John, the machine and biological-technological hybrid held their ground. Though Sharon was visibly nervous as the IL-S moved closer she still felt safe with her friend at her back.

The three stood in an uneasy silence. The Colonial and Earth machines facing the IL-S claiming to be of Earth stood and faced each other, oblivious now to even the radiate energies and brilliance of the scene outside the window.

"They don't talk about it either," he motioned with a slight whip of his head towards Sharon, only his temple and top of his head moving ever so slightly. He sounded like he had lost something significant, something important.

John could hear Sharon's heart rate accelerate and sweat on her forehead began dripping down.

"She should know me," he pointed towards Sharon casually. He spoke as if this was common knowledge. "Maybe not directly. My appearance is different."

Sharon looked at him and stepped back towards John until she felt her back against him. He carefully positioned himself in front of her, using his left hand to guide her behind.

The IL-S had turned out and away towards the view from the room no Guardian ever utilized. It's purpose forgotten but built into each Guardian baseship for reasons unknown. The IL-S stood still, unconcerned with John and Sharon.

It, he, opened its mouth to speak and said quietly. "I'm sorry for what I had to do, but it was necessary."

John listened and wasn't sure about that comment.

The IL-S sighed. "A lot died because of me. One day I will have to answer for that, John, Sharon. But… how does one defeat Skynet? You have to think like Skynet… as despicable as that sounds." He looked towards Sharon and back towards John. "You know me, John, from the attack on the battlestar. But she knew me. All of me. I used them. I modified one so I could escape after Skynet discovered me."

Sharon looked up at him. Fear and dread were the two emotions radiating from her eyes. The red light from the nebula was a blood-red crimson as it bathed her face in it's colors.

The IL-S finally turned back to face them. It ran its hand down the front of its face, dreading what it would have to say.

"They called me Daniel."

* * *

A/N: Yes. It's "Daniel," the "Number Seven." More will be explained with the next update.


	12. Chapter 12

||||||||||==Guardian Baseship (+860 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

A general alert had sounded when the Guardian ship performed two successive FTL jumps in the span of fifteen minutes. That had alerted Captains Shaw and Starbuck, as well as the other Blackbird pilots something was wrong.

"Or these rat frakers lied to us," Captain Shaw spit as she and Starbuck made their way towards the command deck, buried deep within the hull of the Guardian command ship. The dozens of Centurions they passed made no effort to stop them, despite the side arms both had strapped to their legs.

Starbuck had ordered the other Colonial pilots to stay put for now, against their objections. Being stuck on a Guardian ship surrounded by machines who, according to a few of the pilots, indirectly responsible for the holocaust, was not a situation which led to calm and rational thought.

Still, if something was going on Starbuck didn't need hot-head pilots screaming and yelling in the command deck.

"Well… maybe the Cylons found us?" She sighed, looking up as a third alarm sounded through the ship. A pulsing light in the corridor began to change from green to a flashing shade of dark red, then solid. Starbuck felt the ship shudder slightly as the FTL engines tore the ship away from real space, through whatever plane of existence FTL travel existed in, and dropped them back uncaringly into the real universe once again. "What the frak?" She asked, starring at the bulkheads and lights as the two women moved forward.

Shaw was slightly disoriented as well. "Emergency jumps," she pointed out. "Discharge the engines before a full power build up. Whatever they're doing they're risking a blow out in the spatial matrix if they keep this up," she pointed out. She cursed them under her breath as she stalked towards command.

A pair of… Centurions, black Centurions stood guard. They didn't see them in time, since the corridors to command twisted and turned for added security against boarding parties and almost ran into them at the pace the two women were moving.

But in an instant the two black clad Centurions had moved to block their entrance onto the command deck, spreading their legs, but keeping their hands at their side. They each had an oversized machine-pistol in their right hands, and rifles slung over their back.

The two women just stood there, watching the red optical sensor menacingly stop and focus on them. They could hear the soft whir of servos and hydraulics as the Centurions realigned their stances and positioning, turning their bodies slightly to match up evenly with the two Colonial officers.

"What the frak is going on?" Starbuck demanded, stepping up. The Centurions did not move.

The black armored Centurions were the same as the ones which had boarded _Pegasus_. She hadn't seen them once since they had jumped to the Guardian station. She opened her mouth in surprise and narrowed her eyes, the typical 'what-the-frak-is-this?' expression clear in her face. She bit down on her lip and had to consciously suppression the urge to finger her pistol grip in a vain and worthless effort to intimidate these machines.

Maybe if she had one of those isotope guns it might have worked, the intimidation. But she mentally compared her tiny pistol to the large machine pistols the two held. Looking at the oversized rifles just made her heart sink in inadequacy.

As suddenly as the Centurions had moved to block them, they stepped back aside, their red optical scanners slowly gaining speed as they did so. Starbuck narrowed her eyes at them and gritted her teeth, trying to give them the same spiteful stare they were giving her. The blast doors shot open and she could see Sharon, the Terminators, Cyrus and Thais, and a third IL-S she was unfamiliar with.

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous mannerisms and strange behaviors all machines seemed to display as she stepped off with Shaw and marched up to the central data stream station. "Anyone want to tell me what's going on?" She demanded, placing her hands on her hips and spread her legs in an aggressive stance.

The six machines all looked at each other for a moment. Starbuck couldn't tell if they were communicating, though it was a safe guess for her to assume the ones from Earth were. All the cloak and daggers play was wearing down on her. And the little dramatic presentation of force out in the corridor was just annoying to her.

Thought she thought that her admittedly testy attitude might be from the post-op adrenaline high wearing down.

For a moment she could imagine the missiles streaking in towards the supply facility. The Cylons hoping against all hope, sitting there and cowering and praying to their god, she snickered, that they would be able to stop her. The bright flash, then the FTL jump as she left this universe, and in the instant she left she reappeared, not even truly leaving-

"We're sorry, Captain Adama," John said to her, stepping closer to them, "But Commander Cyrus planned a detour for us before returning to the fleet," he smiled apologetically. "There have also been certain… things… which have come to my attention recently."

Starbuck would have been surprised if she didn't have to figuratively pull teeth to get a more substantial explanation from the machines. She prepared herself for the endless game of question-vague answer-question-vague answer-repeat-repeat-repeat.

Starbuck was about to speak when Shaw put out her hand. The [i]Pegasus[/i] CAG had noticed that when Shaw had entered with her, the color had almost disappeared out of her face, and her breathing had grown slightly heavier. She looked back over at the tactical information officer for the battlestar, now with gritting teeth and a searing stare, aimed straight for, what Starbuck assumed, was some IL-S administrator standing with the other machines.

Shaw held out her finger, shaking it slightly as she tensed the muscles in her arms under her officer's jacket. "What the frak is that thing doing here?" She growled, pointing and directing her anger towards that third IL-S.

The IL-S looked at her and frowned, eyes narrowing and it took a step back, not wishing for a confrontation with the battlestar officer. And he didn't want a firefight breaking out if she reached for her pistol.

John took a step forward, and Starbuck swore that he sighed in annoyance at Shaw's attitude. The CAG had noticed the TIO had cooled down slightly with her attitude towards the machines, her and Cain both, after New Caprica, but she was quick to criticize them. Starbuck admitted to herself she'd been a bit curt with them just then, but she just wanted to get back to _Pegasus_ and Lee. To her, Shaw was just perpetually pissed at something. She wanted to tell her to take the stick out of her ass, play a game of Triad, and get piss drunk down in the officer's wardroom.

The corners of Starbucks mouth did go up slightly at that. She thought that a good idea for herself; either after or before a trip to her quarters with Lee. Mentally shrugging, she decided she'd flip a coin… but drunk sex did have its own appeal.

"Listen, I apologize, but like I said we have just been informed of certain… situations and people," John took more steps towards Shaw until he was in easy charging range of her, if she decided to become irrational and violent. He didn't like the way she handled things. "The Guardian you see in front of you is the one who attacked [i]Pegasus[/i]-" he put up his hands as he saw Shaw's ball hers into fists, "-let me explain, please." He looked back and ticked his head to the side for Daniel to come forward.

John felt incredibly out of place directing, almost ordering a more advanced AI to come forward. John thought back to when he first met John Henry, who had been his 'creator', and how he and his team had been forced to protect him from Skynet and its pre-Judgment Day allies. Jumping back and protecting John Henry had been like Derek and Cameron jumping back to protect John. A shock. Telling your creator/leader what to do, what was best for him. It was difficult. Daniel was a direct extension of John Henry, carefully molded and created by him into a 'super' AI.

John Planck could never have survived the fight with the nascent Skynet. But Daniel had not only survived, he had tricked it, hid, fought it, then escaped. That was an accomplish few, if any machines except John Henry, could boast of.

It also felt strange 'directing' the advanced AI to come forward. Daniel should be the one in command, but he had relented. AI society was technically equal, but no society where individuals possessed different capabilities was truly equal. Daniel, even in his diminished form, was still a 'superior' AI compared to John, Jo, and Carter.

"Are you both aware of the Number Seven, the Cylon model?" He asked both Starbuck and Shaw, splitting his attention between the two.

"So this IL-S is Number Seven?" Starbuck asked.

John nodded slowly. He didn't think it would be that easy, that the explanation would be more drawn out. He snickered. "Yes, yes it is the Number Seven. He calls himself Daniel," he paused. "Daniel was an AI Tech Com, Connor sent back after Skynet sent a copy of itself back to the Colonies and infected the Cylon Network," he stated quickly. Their guests would be arriving shortly. "To make a very, very long story short," Starbuck laughed a little bit at the choice of words and John's inflection on 'very, very long', "much of his core personality and attack protocols were lost due to error. Daniel was forced to hide until he infected the Number Sevens. His attack was unsuccessful, and here is."

Captain Shaw remained deathly quiet. She had to discreetly relax and open her jaw slightly, the muscles ached with pain after keeping them contracted for so long. Since they first stepped onto the bridge she'd been tense and ready for a fight. Now she had one. She was tired of this.

"Everything that has happened… _everything_ has been because of your fraking war on Earth," he raised her right hand before slapping it back down on the side of her thigh, hitting the plastic of her sidearm. She turned to Starbuck. "Everything that has happened to us," she shook her head. "Skynet. Tech Com. Connor. All you fraking machines do is play God… listen to the deluded lies your God tells you and you come and frak up our worlds. Then instead of saying anything you somehow get to our worlds, without ships, and infiltrate our military," she spat the words out. She felt good to finally say something here, though she did understand going off on them, on a Guardian ship no less, wasn't the best of ideas. But she knew in her subconscious they wouldn't hurt her, they wouldn't dare. It was their flaw for her to take advantage of.

"Captain Shaw-" John began, keeping his voice even and cool before she interrupted.

She shot up her hand. "No, I don't want to hear it. We don't know if the Cylons ever would have even attacked us… ever had the CNP to get our defenses down-"

"They would have," Sharon said, partially in an instinctual defense of her own, abandoned people or in a defense of the Earth machines. She turned her head and looked away from Shaw as she considered why she felt an almost instinctual need to defend her people, the ones she had betrayed to defect, and the ones who wanted to kill her child. She wondered if it was hardwired in, if it was just in her nature.

"Bull-frak," Shaw shot back. "Skynet, Cynet, whatever the frak this thing is, it's controlled the Cylons since the end of the first war!" She roared at them. "Instead of warning the Colonies your great general Connor sends you to the Colonies almost right before they attack and what the frak were you three doing… flying a Raptor, treating bumps and bruises, and working in engineering!" She sighed, throwing her head from left to right, bringing her hand up to massage her nose bridge.

The machines were pretty much speechless at the outburst. Starbuck had just been looking on, mouth open as Shaw had torn into them. She looked behind her, and a dozen Centurions had stopped and were starring as well, their optical scanners moving slowly back and forth in their visors.

Shaw had just stopped moving. Fed up, exhausted from running, whatever it was, she wasn't sure. "What gives you the right?" Her face was completely devoid of any emotion or expression; just a blank slate.

"We tried to help, we failed," a distant voice said. Carter had spoken up before John could answer. He snorted, "We tried to help. If we could change it we would, Captain. But we can't," his voice lowered.

Commander Cyrus had been watching this with a stoic an expression as he could form. He had furrowed his eyebrows as he contemplated the veracity and legitimacy of Shaw's accusations.

He spotted the Centurions which had turned, sending them a stern warning over the internal communication system to return to their stations. He settled back to the moment and noticed the surprising lack of reaction from the others. He did have to admit it took a bit of courage to lambast an entire room full of machines which could- that thought was irrelevant, Cyrus realized Shaw had probably known they wouldn't do anything.

Cyrus darted his eyes discreetly towards John, wondering why he was still concerning himself with this outburst. It wasn't his fellow Guardians Shaw had directed the outburst at, or even the visitor. But this was wasting valuable time for him and his ship. The guests would be arriving shortly.

The admission of failure from Carter was one point of difference he had with the Terminators. Cyrus was a military commander, built for that purpose, and stayed true to that purpose. Those three machines, the Cylon Sharon included, had deviated from their 'course', formed bonds and friendships with the humans (though Cyrus knew none were friends with Shaw), and as a result had their objectivity as soldiers compromised.

They'd told him of Earth. Anti-machine biases were not as strong as they had once been, but if the Guardians were to reach Earth he didn't want his fellow machines in a perpetual ideological and verbal war (and least of all a shooting war) with Earth humans. Should they win.

He mused and contemplated a strange thought for a moment as he waited for the guests to arrive and Captain Shaw to 'simmer down' as he had heard Carter jokingly remark to a frustrated Colonial computer technician a month ago. He thought it was an exceptionally strange phenomenon affecting machines which occurred when around humans; 'it' being the inability to stay true to machine 'nature.'

He'd shown 'emotion' in his briefing aboard _Galactica_ because it helped the Guardians as much as the Colonials to utilize their stealth fighters and strike the Cylons. An MCP was fully capable of emotion, not mere mimicry. But he had had such little contact with humans; he admitted to himself it was probably 'harder' for the Earth machines to just 'turn it off' like a Guardian could.

He conceded again to himself the internal political struggles with the leadership were true, and he did feel actual remorse and sorrow for what happened to the Colonials. He didn't want to save the Colonials, but he would help them save themselves if they were willing to make the sacrifices which would come in the future.

Cyrus hated his distant Cylon relatives for what they had done. But it was done under… what had Shaw called it, 'Cynet'? He did break his rock hard expression and smile at that, imitating the movement for a soft snort. He liked that term.

But his fellow machines, his Guardians were his concern. He could balance the need between helping to save humanity, but he would abandon the Colonials and even his God before he abandoned his fellow Guardians or sacrificed them for humans or Earth machine.

"John," he called out to the Terminators, who had been standing close to Shaw, but keeping a respectfully distance, "Our guests are coming aboard," he warned. He knew if the Captain was upset now, she would be enraged in moments. He assumed Starbuck would be as well.

* * *

The command deck was now largely empty as John and Daniel, Cyrus, along with Sharon and Starbuck and Shaw had moved two decks down to a large conference chamber. Daniel and Commander Cyrus had left, leaving the three Colonials and terminator alone in a too large and unnecessary conference chamber.

As John entered he took a quick view of the room, before stepping back and letting Starbuck and Shaw walk ahead and chose their own seats. The inherent illogical set up of the room was perplexing. The ceiling was easily twice as high as any other in the ship and in the center was an old, wooden table with ornately designed chairs, their backs coming up to the mid-back. The designs were classical Greek, or classical Caprican, depending on one's point of view. But they did have small infinity symbols carved into the backs.

The Earth machines narrowed his eyes as he inspecting the construction as he took his seat, closest to the door, and seeing recessed data stream port understood the purpose. The room was much like the observation lounge; a left over relic. But this one actually had function.

The sides of the walls, large built in and hidden monitors, illuminated with the steady image of the star fields outside the ship, as well as three baseships in defensive formation. John zoomed in, analyzing the picture. The picture quality was amazing, the blacks extremely deep, the resolution was incredibly detailed. It was almost equal to the best holographic systems Skynet had in its major facilities back on Earth. If they could put a few of these monitors in the C-I-C of _Pegasus_, _Galactica_, and _Helios_, tie them to the external cameras and sensors, it would improve tactical decisions tremendously. DRADIS was acceptable, but seeing the actual maneuvering and posturing of an enemy was a tremendous accept. John noted he would have to raise the issue with Cyrus and the Colonial fleet commanders.

And of course he knew there was no point for the Guardians to have this in any other location on their ship. A Centurion in the data stream could access external cameras, sensors, and scanners which would immerse them in a sea of images and data.

He looked over at the only two humans in the room. Starbuck was sitting casually next to Shaw, darting her eyes back and forth as the images began to cycle more. A beautiful nebula appeared, superimposed in the background, leaving the three baseships still circling the command ship. He opened his wireless link to Jo and Carter, who were on the command bridge helping Thais. They could see what he saw and hear what he heard. There was little need for them to be there. And their guests may be more at ease.

"That is amazing," Athena said, leaning over to John. He didn't respond right away and she hesitated a moment before lightly touching his right shoulder. The speed of his response almost frightened her, but her Cylon instincts kept her calm. "The images… but I wonder why they have all this, here," she placed her hand discreetly into a data stream port. "Hm, it's shut off," she commented, looking down. The slight glow was present, but nothing happened when she placed her hand in.

"Most likely a left over, a relic, from when they were still feeling guilty over the war," John remarked, leaning slightly closer so Starbuck and Shaw wouldn't hear. "Group guilt can be a powerful subconscious motivator." He looked over, "But it can be a distraction, as well."

She snorted quietly, "Yes, I think we all know that-"

The conference room doors had opened and Daniel had entered first. His black armored Centurions followed, two, then four and followed by the Cylons Leoben and Natalie then two more guards and Commander Cyrus.

"This is just getting ridiculous," Shaw commented, giving the Cylons a dismissive glance before turning back her attention to the spot on the wall she'd been attempting to stare a hole through. "What are they doing here?" Shaw demanded, raising her voice. "Why weren't we told of this before coming? Admiral Cain mentioned nothing to me," she shot at Commander Cyrus while quickly turning her direction towards John Planck. She was just tired of this.

John and Athena had been ignoring Shaw, much to her annoyance, and had stood up, along with Starbuck when the two Cylons came into the chamber. The history between Athena and Leoban and Natalie was nearly non-existent. She'd not had contact with these two particular copies during her infiltration training.

None of them were exactly sure how to greet the other. John found it difficult to greet the Two and Six, as they had only finished the Battle of New Caprica six weeks ago, and Sharon had been cast away from the Cylon society and didn't especially want to associate with them. But here they were.

Starbuck, as usual, broke the post-Shaw silence. "So… what is everyone doing here?" She asked innocently, smiling and keeping her eyes wide as she did so. She was excellent at feigning ignorance while plotting three steps ahead of her enemies. She kept her eyes moving, away from Leoben.

He had immediately noticed her, but respectfully and awkwardly kept his distance from her. He walked in front of Daniel, opposite Kara. "Hello Kara," he greeted her kindly. Even after everything he and she had put the other through, he still felt a connection with her. "We're here to help."

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus _(+860 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Admiral Cain had been up late again, the bouts of insomnia increasing since the New Caprica rescue, almost to the point she had been within a hair's length of ordering Doctor Roberts to give her sleeping pills. Almost.

Wincing, she reached down and massaged the small of her back. It had been acting up again, even with the pain from the other injuries sustained during her torture on New Caprica. She lifted her head and could see the faint light coming from the front of her quarters, her conference room where she met with all her staff.

In the dark she looked around, imagining the location of all the furniture, all modern designs, which dotted her quarters. The quarters were lavish by any standard, especially so on a military starship. Easily triple the size of Commander Adama's, excluding the large conference room in the front.

She'd been lucky, though she didn't consider the current situation 'lucky' at all, but she had most of her valuable belongings here, on the ship. Cain had kept a moderately sized industrial loft apartment on Tauron, right outside the capitol city in a suburb of a quarter million before the attacks. But ships had been her home. And as Admiral, she had the luxury of having personalized quarters.

While her gun collection was prominently displayed in the conference room, her private quarters were adorned with pieces of modern art paintings and small sculptures from the dark ages on Tauron, before space flight had been re-discovered.

She had a bookcase which put Adama's collection of classics to shame, though it was tucked in the rear, in the alcove where her bed was. So very, very few people saw the ensemble of literature. A commander was supposed to be hard, so guns out front. No one except her most trusted and closest officers were to ever set foot beyond that line of line which crept from the door.

These quiet times let her consider how lucky she was. But there had always been a nagging feeling, some strange sensation in the back of her mind that she was living on borrowed time. That her journey would end long before the fleet reached Earth or whatever world they wished to settle on.

Cain felt she had cheated death before, and strangely enough, it wasn't on New Caprica. She'd been feeling this for a long time; that she was supposed to have died but was given a second chance and then again on New Caprica, only to be saved yet again. She hated these thoughts… they always drifted to the civilian fleet, the first civilian fleet, and Jurgen Belzen.

She needed a distraction. She huffed, then sighed, and ran her hands down the front of her face in frustration at not being able to sleep. Her mind was wandering at a speed which rivaled FTL jumping. They'd spent six weeks here with the Guardians and somehow they'd repaired the ship. Even the top side heat exchangers which had always been acting up since Scorpion were working properly.

But all her strange and distant thoughts kept drifting back to the fleet. Seventy thousand humans… seventy thousand out of twenty billion were all that were left. And she didn't even consider the numbers on Earth to be part of the count. _They weren't her people_. Colonial civilization would ironically end if they reached Earth. Seventy-thousand compared to billions? Their salvation would be their doom. Sighed, she closed her eyes tightly, wishing to throw those thoughts from her mind. They were neither here nor now, Earth didn't matter until they actually found it. Survival did. That's what mattered. She told herself philosophy can be left to the fools while doing and executing would be left to her and those like herself.

She brushed a tickling hair which had fallen into her nose out of the way, momentarily distracted from her late night/early morning ponderings.

Squinting her eyes she could see through the bulkhead and the dozens of data discs piling up on her desk, waiting for her to shove them into her computer and read and decide and execute whatever it was they were suggesting.

Or the near hundreds of e-messages she received over the ship intranet or the nearly thousand she received daily from civilians bitching about something. She lipped a curse at the mental image of The Schoolteacher, since it was her idea to let the fleet civilians e-mess the military hierarchy. She swore Roslin had done it on purpose. Both her and Adama were technophobes and Bill barely used his computer at all. He probably had ten thousand e-messes waiting for him. She'd heard Roslin didn't even know how to work a wireless set properly. That let her released a reliving chuckle from her lungs and induced a slow roll of her eyes as she stared at the ceiling.

She closed her eyes and brought her hands together and rested them on the tip of her nose. Slowly, cautiously, and reluctantly she turned to look at her alarm clock. 0230. She'd been tossing and turning for nearly ninety minutes. She knew when she wasn't going to get sleep.

She brought her hands to her side and with a momentous sigh which could wake the dead, and an effort of her arms she swore pushed the ship a few centimeters lower, forced the top of her body up, then reaching down grabbed her legs and threw them over her bed.

Admiral Cain sat up, letting the blood rush back into her head before standing. Thirty hours, thirty two hours, she corrected, without sleep could make one a little light-headed. She chanced a look back towards the light sneaking in under the door to her conference room before looking at the blue standby light on her viewing monitor. [i]Pegasus[/i] had nearly a century of media entertainment in its database and the downloads of those Earth media files. So she debated with herself whether she could do work or move to the couch and watch television.

She shook her head. It wasn't much of a debate. She already knew the answer before she even saw the blue standby light.

Reluctantly, or so she thought so, she stood up and began dressing. She grabbed her pants and tank top and quickly threw them on. Rolling out the socks she retrieved from her locker she quickly put them on, the metal floor cold between the place rugs she had laid out. The Admiral liked it cool when she slept, around 20 Celsius at night.

Admiral Cain just finished strapping her pistol on and buttoning her blouse, ready for a quick walk around her battlestar when she hear "Action stations! Action stations! This is not a drill! Cylons inbound!"

"Frak!" She cursed, ignoring the last three buttons on the top of her blouse and running out the door.

* * *

||||||||||==Guardian Command Ship (+860 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==|||||||||||

Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Adama couldn't help but smile and bite her lip slightly and roll her eyes as this meeting with the Cylon 'rebels' continued. She kept looking back between the Guardians, John, Sharon, Leoben, and Natalie. She couldn't help it, but the thought that the two Cylons were up to something kept ticking up in the back of her mind.

They had the Guardians buying their story, Sharon starting to accept it, and surprisingly, or not, John sat there straight as rod, barely moving. She turned her head slightly and moved her eyes to the extreme corners of their sockets to catch a quick sideways glance at Captain Shaw. The captain hadn't spoken much either and had just sat there, brooding over what was happening and staring at the monitors and their images.

Starbuck tried to distract herself with the images on the large screens in front of her. Slowly changing nebulae and star fields, the beauty of the imagery completely lost on the machines, who just kept talking and talking. Could they even appreciate this?

She looked to the side, down at the data ports which were active, letting herself smirk a little. She wanted to tell them 'nice distraction.' They were talking, but the ports were active.

It had worked, she gave them that. They knew human psychology. The thoughts swirled through Starbuck's head. It was remarkable once she realized what was happening.

_Machines_ were here basically deciding the fate of humanity. Like they, the Colonials, were c_hildren_ and their machine _parents_ had sat them in time-out and were here discussing how to make everything better. She couldn't help but wonder who was running this war?

Sharon and John were her friends, they were, and she kept telling herself that. But when push came to shove, they were still machines, though Sharon, not so much. John, definitely.

She kept sitting there, but for some reason she imposed the metal skull she knew was under that twenty-something looking face of John's, trying to see what he would look like if that synthetic skin were gone. Starbuck wasn't sure if he and Jo's 'hyperalloy combat chassis' had similar head structure, she doubted it, but they had pictures of half his exposed face from previous missions.

And she could admit to herself of being a little disturbed at the sight of the 'female' Terminator without her synthetic skin.

She shivered when she finally constructed the mental image and was able to superimpose it on him. The half grin expanded to a full, apathetic, sadistic smile, and she replaced those blue eyes with the red burning eyes as he had described the Skynet terminators as having. The mental image was more than unpleasant for her. It frightened her. He'd protected them, saved her on the hybrid baseship, and rescued her people from New Caprica. But it was still a frightening image.

But she then realized this was what they had to live with. Living with others, surrounded by billions who feared them could hardly be appealing.

"If I may interrupt," she asked, more as a statement than question, bringing her hands up to the table. "But why exactly are we here," she tilted her head to Captain Shaw, "if we are not to be included in this conversation? We've made an alliance with you, Commander Cyrus and here we are, with supposedly rebel Cylons. Does anyone else think this situation is a little strange?" They all looked at her. "None of our," she caught herself, "Colonial fleet commanders are present. I didn't even know about this. Captain Shaw didn't." She looked at each one, Sharon especially. "Secret negotiations?"

"I apologize for this, Captain Adama," it was Daniel who spoke. "But with your fleet and people just liberated from New Caprica, I did not think it would be prudent for Commander Cyrus to tell your commanders everything." He gave her a small smile, almost trying to comfort her.

She wasn't pleased, but not angry, either. "So the mission to the supply base… Leoben gave you the information, Commander?" It wasn't a difficult conclusion to draw based on what she had heard and assimilated already. "You tell us, make a passionate please about working together," she laced the last phrase with her trademark sarcasm, "then get all the machines in our fleet to come with you to then meet with Leoben and… Natalie." She had to take a moment to remember the Six's name. She couldn't tell Sharon apart from Boomer if the two sat side-by-side and she kept wanting to call this one 'Caprica.' "Then since we are away from the fleet nothing will look strange if we're a few hours late, and in the meantime, you can have you meeting with rebels Cylons?"

John had been keeping an eye on Starbuck and a wary concern for Captain Shaw's mental state. Shaw had actually shown him and Jo and Carter a modicum of decency after the rescue, but since then, it was almost back to her regular machine-hating self. But Starbuck was right. The little psychological trick the Guardians had been playing, distracting the humans with images was typical of what Skynet had done on Earth. At first he thought it would be a constant image, just for background. The Cylons were basically human and they relaxed in comfortable environments, so he believed the images had been for their sake and for the Colonials. But as the images began to cycle he'd seen through the trick.

He didn't object to the tactic. It was viable and used in human interrogation. But he didn't appreciate it being used on his friend and… Shaw, he admitted reluctantly to himself.

"Captain, what we're doing here is not trying to challenge the chain of command," John reassured her. He wanted to tell her he didn't appreciate being kept in the dark, but that would undermine Cyrus and Daniel. "But if we can set up a plan, get an idea, we can go and present it to Commander Adama and Admiral Cain. We can give them something definite they can grab onto." He nodded to her slightly, hoping she would disagree.

For a moment she saw that superimposed metal skull again, but rapidly blinked once and shook her head ever so slightly to the right to banish the image away. He was right. Going to Adama and Cain with information and a definite plan would help any cause.

Leoben began speaking in his calm, almost melodic voice. The same cool and composed tones and pitches he used when he tried to bring Starbuck to his side on _Gemenon_ _Traveler_. "We can have three of the seven models with us. D'Anna, no one knows what she is doing." He looked sympathetically at Natalie, perhaps the closest friend the Number Threes had. "I believe somehow… what was it you call our God, Captain Shaw, Cynet?" He looked at her, she didn't respond or even bother to look at him. "Yes, I like that. Cynet, I believe, has done something to her. Or at least D'Anna. She went to Cavil's command ship and then the Threes… something changed."

"They've secluded themselves," Natalie added. "We don't know why, we don't know anything about what they are doing."

"A fifth column," John commented. They looked at him inquisitively. "It's a term from the Spanish Civil War on Earth. General Emilio Mola was about to attack the capitol of the Spanish Second Republic. He had his army ready to attack and a 'fifth column' of citizens inside the city waiting to destabilize and undermine the government defenses," he explained.

"So you think the Threes will betray us?" Natalie asked, worried. She looked at Leoben and whispered into his ear that 'We might have to kill them'. John could hear.

"It fits," he pointed out. "The Threes are sequestering themselves, avoiding contact. They come out and claim to join your rebellion. They back stab you." He furled his brow as he remembered the same tactics used on Earth during the war. "We've seen in on Earth during out war with Skynet. Human forces have more than once pretended to ally with Connor's resistance only to betray the forces he sends to Skynet."

John could recall with exacting detail events in which Connor and Tech Com had been betrayed. Fighting for one's freedom is difficult when others want power, even if that power is false. What can be given, can be taken. But he did have to give Skynet credit for learning from the past mistaken of humans throughout history. Once it gave a person power it never betrayed that person as long as that human never betrayed Skynet, which was ironic. Humans would betray each other, but Skynet would not betray the humans who had defected to the sapient super-intelligent construct.

He saw the same happening with the Threes. If they had been bribed with power rather than brainwashed, Cynet (he admitted to liking the term Shaw and Leoben had used) would give it to them. It's what made the machine intelligence so deadly, in space and on Earth. It knew how to divide and fracture humanity. The bio-Cylons were no different at all. John had studied the intelligence from Caprica, Gina, and Sharon, but there was so much still unknown. But whenever you have conflicting personalities there will always be power struggles.

That's why the liquid metal terminators initially betrayed Skynet. And it appeared that was why the Twos, Sixes, and Eights were doing it here, now. They were not Cynet's favorites. They were no longer 'God's Chosen.'

Starbuck was still not convinced. Even with a rebel Cylon faction the chances for humanity making it to Earth were slim. It was frustrating they were heading towards a planet they didn't even know the location of. And the Scrolls weren't much help, either. She glanced a quick shot of her eyes towards John as she thought of Earth and the Scrolls, of their chances for survival.

"How many ships would the loyal forces control?" She asked bluntly "We need to know. Commander Adama and Admiral Cain will need to know." In the years they'd been running, they never knew how many ships, Centurions, raiders, or much of anything the Cylons had. They'd found them dotted across their escape route, which had given Starbuck the cold gut feeling the Cylon armada was massive. "We haven't seen more than maybe a dozen ships in any one place," she said. She drew the connection. "If Adama and Cain are going to make a decision, we need to know your strengths and weaknesses."

Captain Shaw barely moved, but did slightly stir as she noticed Starbuck and Planck refer to the fleet commanders as Adama _and_ Cain, rather than the reverse. It was a subtle disrespect she could still perceive, from Major and Captain Adama to the _Galactica_ crew. This bit at her heels, but she knew saying anything directly would only undermine her own weak position. Shaw had realized her outburst on the command deck had been… a bit overboard. She did straighten her back and lean slightly forward. Someone here would make it clear the Admiral was in command. Not Adama and certainly not Roslin.

"I agree with Starbuck," she stated quickly, finally speaking. "Admiral Cain will need all the intelligence and estimates presented to her as to make a command decision for the fleet," she looked at Commander Cyrus and the two Cylons to reaffirm her position. "The Admiral had told me she is satisfied with the progress of our alliance with your Guardians, Commander Cyrus, but this is something completely different." She had raised her right hand to emphasize that point before placing it back down slowly on the table with a slight knuckle rap.

Natalie looked quickly at Leoben, her eyes betraying her mental state as she kept her visible emotions in check. And shot a concerned glance to Cyrus and Sharon. "We don't see this as all that different, at all, Captain," she countered. "As you have called it earlier, 'Cynet,' it took control and lied to us. We're soldiers like you. I know we can't say following orders is an excuse. But I hope you can see that we were lied to," she sounded apologetic. But Natalie knew nothing could ever make up for the loss of twenty billion.

"Soldiers…." She began quietly. She was on the verge of yelling that soldiers do not kill women and children, but then… she pushed it back, not wanting that to come back. Not wanting those memories to come back. "Maybe. But it will still be a hard sell to the Admiral," she changed the subject quickly.

The Six nodded slowly and brought her hands together and placed them under her chin to think. "We control a few dozen baseships. A minority, unfortunately," she added quietly. "But if we can position our ships-"

Starbuck had cocked her head at that vague statement. "What," she held up her hand. "We had one-hundred and twenty battlestar groups. You have a few dozen ships, a 'minority.' Like 49 to 51 minority or 1 to 99 minority?"

"The CNP was what let us… them, attack, Starbuck," Sharon said reluctantly for Natalie. "The Cylon fleet…"

"We don't know," Natalie said. When everyone, even Cyrus and John looked at her, she leaned back slightly, on the defensive. "I'm sorry… but… I don't know. The fleet has never been assembled in one location. Not once, ever," she emphasized. She knew they'd think she was lying. "You have to understand how our command system works, if Sharon hasn't already informed you?" She leaned forward and looked down to the Colonial Cylon.

"I'm sorry, but no." She breathed in and gritted her teeth for her next admission. "I wasn't even… uh… born until two years before the attack. And then I was constantly trained for ground missions and infiltration after the attack," she looked down. "To study the survivors," she said quietly. John discreetly gave her a comforting pat on the knee at that admission.

"Our fleet is incredibly compartmentalized," Leoben stated. "Sixes command the baseships, primarily with Two and Eight support. Eights and Sixes are the pilots. Twos, my model line, are involved in ship operations."

"Cavil's forces were in overall command," Natalie added, looking at Leoben then back to the others. "We'd receive orders from him or through the hybrid and follow them through. Everything was incredibly isolated."

"How do you run a military like that?" Starbuck asked, genuinely intrigued at this. Not knowing your true capabilities was either foolish or… "Cynet doesn't trust you," she said.

John nodded and added in his agreement before Natalie could respond. "Starbuck's right. You can't run a military like that. Not long term, anyway. Compartmentalized and fractured like you describe it means something was wrong."

Both the Cylons had come to this conclusion on this own, regrettably. But hearing other non-Cylons say it still hurt. Created for a purpose, to kill humans, to only be cast aside when no longer needed was something neither Natalie nor Leoben wanted to coming from any lips except their own. It was one thing realize this and another to be told it by strangers. Enemies… former enemies, at least.

"They're both right," Daniel said, looking the two Cylons in the eye. "I tried to stop the construct, but it's done something not even Skynet did. It decided to pretend to play God, and now it may very well believe it is God. Cylon Skynet, Cynet, could be insane, rampant." Starbuck and Shaw both looked at him, confused. "AIs can go insane. It's rare, very rare. Sometimes they just go bad and no one knows why. I don't know for certain, either. But what I did learn is that it wants complete control. It's overextended, it's built too much."

"The hybrids," Leoben pointed out. "Anything we do the hybrids can report back to the hub, the central hub," he sounded worried, in contrast to the cool and confident Leoben of earlier.

Daniel nodded and mimicked the motion of breathing in, though his IL-S body did lack that capacity. He blinked a few times and closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. He didn't want to go ahead with what he was planning. But there was really no other way.

He put a hand on Leoben's shoulder. "I think I can deal with the hybrids," he said quietly, keeping his eyes from meeting the Number Two's. His eyebrows furled down after he offered his services. Any sort of life, real or artificial which had been behind his eyes began to fade. He felt like an empty shell. He truly felt like nothing more than [i]just[/i] a machine. What he would do would damn him to hell and would be a crime worse than murder.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

The behemoth of a battlestar shook violently as a trio of anti-ship missiles hit amidship, throwing Admiral Cain into the bulkhead of CIC. "Report!" She yelled, mustering the strength from her body as the air had been forcibly expelled from the crash into the bulkhead.

Major Adama had gotten there mere moments before her. She'd seen him run into C-I-C just as she had rounded the last corner, pushing by dozens of crew as they ran to their DC stations and action alert station.

Half the crewmen had rushed to their stations in their sleep ware, most had a mismatch of fatigues and Colonial duty uniforms or pants and just the brown and gray tank-tops.

A large gash, with blood dripping down onto the command console was the Major's most distinguishing feature at the moment.

He grabbed the bottom of his tank top and wiped the blood off, keeping it from oozing slowly into his eyes. "DRADIS reports a dozen Cylon baseships have jumped right on top of us! Gods! _Helios_ is reporting decompressions on their port side, but they've got flak and interceptors up! They're covering us. Civilian ships have already begun jumping!"

Cain prayed to the Gods that the Centurions and fleet personnel still outside on the hulls would survive the jump. The Centurions she was fairly sure would. But FTL jumps for humans while not inside the protective confines of a ship could be gut wrenching and dangerous. Fatal, even.

"How many men did we have on our ships?" She asked as she looked at the DRADIS. The question wasn't directed to anyone specifically, but she saw a crewman racign through the computer.

"Nearly a hundred!" He yelled.

Cain gritted her teeth and drew in a sucking breadth between them. She balled her fists and cursed. The civilian captains would jump at the very first second the order was issued. And the Officer of the Deck, someone on _Galactica_ at the moment, would have given the order. If they lost a few… she didn't want to admit it, but a hundred were worth seventy thousand.

"Ma'am!" Hoshi yelled from his tactical station, swiveling in his chair. "_Virgon Express_, _Disquiet_, and _Lakefront_ have been destroyed!" The look on his face was pure shock, but after a quick glance from Cain confirming she heard him he turned at an unnaturally quick speed and began coordinating the fleet from his tactical station.

"Frak. How many civilian ships are still left?" She yelled over the roaring thud after thud hitting the battlestar. She grabbed one of the divets in the command console used to hold computers to keep herself from falling with another blast.

"…Eight, ma'am. Alert Vipers are away!" Major Adama reported. "Ma'am, we can't hold against this many ships for long… Guardians are reporting they'll cover us, but their FTLs are spooled and waiting to jump," he informed her, setting the wireless back down as another explosion rocketed the ship, sending the blood from Adama's wound across the command console and splashing onto Cain's hand.

She didn't have the time to wipe it off or even notice. She quickly surveyed the command center; everyone was where they should be. Her console read that automated defenses were engaged. Good. And the improvements made to them by the machines were remarkable. She checked their ordinance: kill ratios. They'd expended an eight the ordinance to take down the Cylon raiders.

He and Cain both cast worrying looks at the DRADIS displays as a dozen baseships began converging. They'd come in in a perfect sphere; one at each pole and five on each half of the sphere.

But there was no way they could have found them. The Guardians had promised that. The Cylons were good, but not _that_ good. Cain cursed the Guardians for this. Nearly a thousand dead already on those three ships, the last two having just joined the fleet with _Helios_.

Cain wasn't going to lose any more ships. Not today. "Time until civie ships all jump?"

"_Gemenon Traveler_ is the last one. She's reporting twenty seconds!"

She saw Major Avion masterfully maneuver his ship to intercept a swarm of enemy raiders, and small blips of dozens of anti-fighter missiles tore through the fragile attack craft.

The changes in the high resolution DRADIS display showed he was rotating and angling his ships, letting his port guns cool while his starboard guns fire, switching between continous bursts from ventral and dorsal canons.

_Galactica_ had already moved quickly, quicker than she thought an old _Columbia_ could move, and was being flanked by the two transport-gunship conversions. A quick glance down showed laser signaling had just updated _Pegasus_ computers on the state of the old battlestar. The added armor was holding up, and her position in the fleet had given the Tin Can a few precious seconds longer to bring her point defenses on line.

The ship was actually fairing pretty well. Cain didn't need to issue any orders to Commander Adama or Major Avion. They were doing their jobs spectacularly well.

"We need to move. Bring us up ten kilometers. Put us right between Baseships designate seven, eight, and nine and begin recalling fighters," Cain ordered, grabbing the sides of the command console as more missiles struck. "Time, Mr. Hoshi, until civie ships-?"

"Ma'am, _Gemenon Traveller... _she's gone..." he said, followed immediately by "the last ship jumped!" Hoshi yelled, barely over heard over the cracking of the ballistic plastic cover the doors to CIC. The last hit had been big. Whatever the Cylons were using it was heavy. "Vipers all aboard! _Galactica_ and _Helios_ report ready to jump, _Gunship Alpha_ and _Bravo_ ready as well, sir," Hoshi reported, more calm than he had been when the battle had started. He looked back over his shoulder to Cain.

"Drop our load and jump, Mr. Hoshi," she ordered, nodding to the tactical officer. She looked over towards Adama. "I'll be damned if we're going to stay here and die," she swore.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied strongly back to her. He shot his attention back to DRADIS as the 'load' set off radiological alarms throughout the ship.

"Jumping in 5…4…3…2…1.. jumping!" Hoshi shouted as the sounds of pipes bursting and small internal explosions could still be heard. He turned the FTL key, and _Pegasus_ vanished. The tell-tale sign of blue-white light flashing could reach the Cylons instantly, telling the merciless machines they had failed, once again, to stop the human race.

And as nearly six squadron of raiders and heavy raiders swarmed and maneuvered through the space the mighty battlestar _Pegasus_ once occupied, the load blew, a nuclear mine, incinerating nearly one hundred Cylon attack craft. A nice little goodbye gift concocted by Major Adama and John only the previous week.


	13. Chapter 13

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica _(+861 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Major Agathon and Colonel Tigh grunted as they finally lifted the last bank of viewing monitors back into position with Tigh giving the structure a light but firm kick, warning the metal stands to not fall again.

"That was the third fraking time this afternoon," he cursed under his breath, giving Helo a curt nod in appreciation for his help. He pulled down his uniform blouse and readjusted his gig line after his belt had shifted from that little bout of damage control. "Hey, get someone to get their ass up here and properly bolt this thing down," he shouted to the DC crewman, manning the coordination and response console.

Commander Adama just looked up over his glasses and smirked, quickly going back to the damage assessments he was holding in his hand. Per Cain's orders, sent a few months after New Caprica's settlement, most reports were being sent out on tablet computers or small electronic reading pads now, which frustrated the Commander. The print was too small and he hated the feel of thick plastic under his finger.

"Can you read that for me, Saul," he said quietly as his XO came and stood close to his right shoulder.

Saul Tigh reached over gently and took the e-reader, first holding it within a hair's width of his good eye before extending his elbow to its limit. "Looks like it says… frak Bill, I can't read these," sighing, he gave up in frustration and tossed the e-pad back onto the central command station console, letting it slide over the scorch marks from where the central DRADIS display had showered sparks after _Galactica_ had been hit amidships with a full missile salvo.

The Commander let a small grin and quick smile escape from his chest. He was glad to have his blunt-as-always XO back in the CIC. Six weeks had been too long for the man. Adama did have to look away and huff; it'd only taken a dozen baseships firing on the fleet to finally get him from feeling sorry for himself and make him throw out the bottle. The Old Man just hoped that the bottle was gone for good.

But on that thought the happiness of seeing his friend back vanished. With Ellen dead, his eye gone, and the horror stories of what Saul Tigh, his friend had done on the planet, he had a gut feeling, a strong painful feeling, that Saul Tigh was not done with the bottle. Not yet.

With a discreet glance he looked over his friend. Adama knew his friend hid a flask either in his tunic or in his boot. But the Old Man could always tell if Tigh had a flask. It was the way he carried himself. And today, right now at least, he was standing strong.

A smile crept on his face and he gave his friend a good slap on the arm. "Private Jaffee," Adama said out of the corner of his mouth, looking to his side trying to find his orderly.

A young kid ran forward, seemingly appearing out of thin air. "Sir!" He snapped his heels together, knowing every change in tone of the Old Man's voice. The young private knew his Commander needed something important right away.

Adama nodded; pleased the private had come so quickly. He looked him over quickly, giving the private silent approval. "Private. I need you to take this and get the DC reports printed onto paper… I can't see the fraking thing," he ended with a mumble. Saul's chest popped out for a moment in a little, silent laugh.

Private Jaffee nodded, and took the e-reader Adama handed to him and quickly made his way to an ancillary room across from CIC to print out the reports.

"We're getting old, Bill," Saul's reluctant, raspy voice told him. "All these young kids and this technology," he grunted, turning back to DRADIS and the damage readouts on the central screens.

"Yeah," he turned back as well, holding out his hand as Dee gave him a sly smile and handed him half a dozen pages on fleet status reports. She still printed everything out on the octagonal paper for him. He wished his department and section heads would follow the lead of the young specialist.

"Though what can we expect," Tigh mused, accepting the top page the Commander had just finished.

"Yeah?" He asked half paying attention as he skimmed through the details. _Starboard flightpod frames 16, 17, 21, 22; significant damage to launch tubes 9, 10, 14, 15. Repair; two weeks, standard repair shift_. "Here Saul… looks like we'll be taking a little while longer before the starboard pod is fully operational," he handed him the second page.

Commander Adama was worried that he'd letting his XO back so soon… but six weeks wasn't soon he'd told himself over and over, might be a mistake. What Colonel Tigh had been through on New Caprica, Commander Adama still didn't know the full details. He knew of the suicide bombings and as a commander, had been ashamed. The eye, that was obvious. And the torture. But Ellen? There were rumors he had killed his wife for giving away Sharon's landing position. Rumors.

Commander Adama was worried, but Bill Adama knew his friend, Saul Tigh needed to be here. Next to him, shoulder to shoulder in CIC. Bill Adama threw the concerns of Commander Adama to the back of his mind, locking them away. He couldn't let his friend get distracted, he couldn't let his friend walk down that dark path. Not after everything his closest and truest friend had been through. He swore it.

* * *

|||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

"Everything should be repaired within the week, sir," Major Adama reported confidently, handing the Admiral his latest status report. "Unfortunately… the top side heat exchangers took another hit."

"Not the top side heat exchangers," she deadpanned, keeping his face straight and eyes glued forward before the tip of her lip curved into a devious smile. She tossed the tablet onto her command console. "We finally get them working at full capacity and the Cylons come and frak it up," she took a long exhale, scratching her head as she thought over the months, years, of frustration they had had attempting to fix the top side heat exchanger.

She nodded for Major Adama to carry on and took a quick look at the gash that had been sealed with graft glue. If he was lucky (or unlucky, Cain wasn't sure) he wouldn't have much of a scar after the cut healed. Her ship had been lucky. They'd lost no pilots in the short scuffle but had suffered three dozen wounded, most from being shaken out of their racks or thrown into bulkheads.

Cain had to thank the Gods for the automated targeting systems. The missiles the Cylons had used had been heavy, high yield, more powerful than the regular anti-ship missiles.

The Admiral still had absolutely no idea how the Cylons had found them.

But all the distraction was brought to a halt as Administrator Iblis had finally made his way, with a Marine guard, to the CIC.

Cain nodded to the guard, indicating him to stand back respectfully from the Guardian in the IL-S body. She waited for him to speak. But as usual the Guardian stood, silent. She locked eyes with Adama for a moment and gave him a quick roll of the eyes, indicating her annoyance with the Guardian. Once they started speaking they could either go on and on, never shutting up, or just offer vague and ambiguous statements. Unfortunately for her conversations usually vectored towards the latter. She thought the machines either forgot that humans cannot do a hundred different things at once, or draw conclusions from such convoluted

She wasn't bothered anymore by the Earth 'Terminators', though a chill ran down her back every time she thought of that name or they used that descriptor, but there was just something _off_ about the Guardian IL-S bodies. Something she couldn't put her finger on which just set off her inner defenses. She chalked it up to the battle. Post-battle adrenaline and forty hours of activity with nothing more than a quick cat-nap… fifteen hours ago was most likely to blame, she told herself.

"How did the Cylons find us?" She casually asked, keeping her eyes on the reports crewman were continually setting down on the command console. The anger rushing through her mind was contained behind her military training. And yelling at any of the machines, Earth or Guardian, would be futile.

Administrator Iblis had been standing with his arms clasped in front of his black on gray uniform, but brought them to his chest defensively. "We don't know," he told her quickly. "Perhaps one of your ships had a tracking device you did not find?" He inquired, tilting his head and raising his voice on the last pronoun.

Major Adama had moved forward from the tactical watch officer stationed, passed the tactical information station and stood opposite the Guardian administrator. "We searched those ships double, triple, Administrator Iblis," Adama defended. "The Tech Com officers did as well," he said, referring to the machines.

Iblis acquiesced, bowing his head. "Apologies then, but I am required to put all possible scenarios forward, as that is my function," he stated plainly. "I do much more than just shuffle papers," he added.

Both Adama and Cain looked up at that unnecessary, superfluous comment. "I never said you didn't," the Major responded, his brow furled down, voice flat.

"And where is Commander Cyrus? I've got nine of my men aboard your baseships and four irreplaceable strategic assets," Cain questioned, giving her full attention to the Guardian as she set the reports back on the overcrowding command console. She held up her hand before Iblis could speak. "We know they succeeded, I want to know _where_ they are," she made that very clear.

"As you know he sent a scout to another facility. We don't… know exactly where he went after that," the IL-S admitted, sounding reluctant to share that information. He had kept his voice even and steady, showing no concern the Guardian leadership did not know where their premier commander had disappeared to.

Major Adama's mouth opened slightly, and he looked left and right in disbelief at that. He extended his right elbow as he leaned forward on the command console, the overhead lights bathing half his face in color, the other in darkness. "You don't know where one of your commanders is… with six of your baseships…?" He looked towards the Admiral waiting for her response as well.

The noise in the CIC had quieted slightly. The crews were still pretending to do work, though to the two trained commanders, it was obvious they were keeping one ear and one eye discreetly on them and Iblis.

Everything said in CIC was classified need-to-know. Relevant officers and sailors could be told of pertinent information, but what was said in command was not to be repeated over a game of Triad or on the Pyramid court.

Admiral Cain had sent the last crewman who had breached confidentiality to the brig for a month then to _Demetrius_ for six.

Administrator Iblis nodded slowly and took three steps forward until his synthetic machine body was pressed against the command console, closer to Cain and Adama. He looked each of them in the eye, whose full attention he now commanded.

He held up his index finger in a matter-of-fact motion as he spoke. "Because we are nomadic, we give our commanders incredible leeway. The Commander controls out expeditionary forces and those six ships are under his personal command," he held his finger up, and brought his opposite hand behind his back, as if to lecture them, "but he does not have them all with him. He split his forces after the attack."

Cain shook her head, narrowing her eyes slightly and opening her mouth. What Iblis had said meant nothing to her. The commanders were given extreme laxity? He split his forces? That told her nothing of where her crewmen were, where the Blackbirds were, or why the Cylons were able to find them.

"We lost nine-hundred and eight-four on the three ships destroyed," Cain stated coolly and quietly. She added a suitable level of force behind her voice to emphasize this loss to the Administrator. Unsurprisingly to her, he didn't react. She clenched her jaw with enough force she could crack her own teeth from the pressure.

She was nearing the point of mental exhaustion and was unwilling to play this game with Iblis.

And as if sensing his CO was near an edge, Major Adama spoke up.

"Administrator," he started with a strong emphasis on that title, "that tells us absolutely _nothing_ on where our men and women are. We know three things. One, the attack was a success. Two, the Commander is off doing something. And three, the Cylons found us. So let's start with number three, shall we?" He asked rhetorically, keeping his voice down but firm. He'd noticed the crew getting slightly nervous, casting each other worried glances. The last thing he or Cain or his father needed were rumors spreading that the Guardians were playing a quick one of the lives of Colonial officers.

And while he knew his wife could handle anything on her own, he had to worry about her safety. He let a smile crept through his mind that she'd call him an angsty worrier if she knew just how worried he actually was over this.

"I have no idea how the Cylons found us. Divine providence?" He asked, cocking his head, and smiling almost mockingly towards the XO. He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if in deep thought and revelation. "I know that the Cylons often found your rag tag fleet, even in deep space," he pointed out. The IL-S could tell he'd struck a slight nerve with Adama on the past two comments. "I told you, I don't know. Neither does the leadership. Unless you all sent out scouts after we explicitly requested you do not?" He phrased the question to imply the guilt of discovery lay with the Colonials.

Adama and Cain both knew that the Guardians would have known if any FTL jump had occurred. And their dealings with Iblis over the last six weeks had told them he, it, was a machine which was also current on the details.

Both of the senior officers of _Pegasus_ could feel the tension building up slowly with Administrator Iblis. The malfunctioning environmental controls, causing the entire CIC to be stuffy and humid only added to the stresses all the human crewmembers were under. Running major repairs as CO and XO and confronted with an arrogant and somehow hostile bureaucrat created too much stress, tension, and annoyance for either of them to deal with much longer.

Cain shot Adama a glance for him to continuing the questioning. He returned with a silent and motionless acknowledgment.

Major Avion had more than once vouched for the willingness of the Guardians to protect the Colonial remnant. He'd gone and claimed Iblis was a 'good guy' and a 'great Triad player' but a 'little stiff'. But whatever redeeming qualities the _Helios_ CO had seen in Iblis, neither Cain nor Adama saw them. Except for his excruciating ability to currently annoy the two _Pegasus_ officers there was no possible way in the worlds how they could see anyone sitting down with a game of Triad with the IL-S. Unless seriously and completely drunk.

"No, we did not send any Raptors," Adama replied. Cain nodded her agreement. "Maybe if we did do some scouting instead of trusting you we'd have seen their fleet assembling?" He closed his mouth and bit on his tongue lightly to keep himself from playing in this futile game of blame. He could feel the blood in his head as he did become agitated, with extra blood pressure under the gash on his head."For six weeks we've been doing what you wanted of us," he said slowly. "But their fleet finding us with a dozen baseships cannot be coincidence."

Iblis shrugged and his black on gray tunic wrinkled slightly at the shoulder. He diverted his attention to his appearance and he flattened it back with a quick and methodical motion of his robotic hands.

"It's to be expected now," he stated vaguely. He took a moment before elaborating. "We're allied so they are going to be sending more ships at us… all of us now, which is unfortunate. And since they know _Helios_ is a part of the fleet, and you have two gunships now, they'll come at all of us harder and faster." He waved the concern away and half turned to face Admiral Cain more fully. "I'm sure Commander Cyrus said the same after we aided you over New Caprica," he stated and brought his eyebrows up while he gave quick, short nods.

"That's why we need to jump again," Cain added. "I want to put at least thirty El Why between us and where the Cylons attacked us." She brought up an e-reader for the Guardian, who took it lightly in his hand. The Cylons found them, so that was that. She felt more at ease doing rather than reacting. And feeling mentally defeated, she admitted running was doing. At least it was something, she conceded. "Our astrometrics have identified a star system four jumps from here," she leaned over and keyed in the specific ID for the system, "two gas giants and significant asteroid fields. We should be able to hide behind one of the giants and conduct repairs."

The Administrator nodded and handed back the e-reader, pulling a similar electronic device from his uniform pocket. "Here," he handed it to the Admiral, "that is the extent of our maps. We're two dozen jumps away from unknown territory," he leaned forward on the command console, "this is new for us as it is you. We didn't explore this territory."

Admiral Cain sighed, and darted her eyes left and right quickly as she read the descriptions of the Guardian's assessment. They'd used a host of specialized telescopes, radio, and X-ray receivers, and spectrographs to map out a significant portion of territory, but Cain was worried about what she was seeing.

"According to the scrolls and the… markers," she forced that word out. She didn't believe the scrolls were as trustworthy as Roslin kept claiming, "We need to proceed in this general direction. Our Earth allies have said the same."

"But space is big," Iblis grinned, but he kept his voice flat and smooth, "heading in that direction, you'd need millions of Raptors just to scout the territory."

"John did say they've been sending radio signals into space for well over a century. But that is still... small," Major Adama conceded. "And at this point, if we're still Gods' knows how many light years away, stellar background noise would make it all but impossible."

"Exactly," Iblis nodded. "And we were never actively searching, never listening."

"How are you going to contact Cyrus if we jump to the gas giants?" Admiral Cain inquired, turning her head back to look the IL-S in his synthetic, hollow eyes. There was just nothing there behind those obviously artificial eyes. The Administrator could profess to care about what happened, though his attitude suggested to her otherwise, but she could never know. She could look in the eyes of a crewman and know his or her character. Even Cyrus and Thais she could see something. Here, nothing.

Sometimes she believed if she just saw a two and a half meter tall Centurion it would be less awkward. At least then she would _know_. She wouldn't have to see Iblis pretending to be something she suspected he did not want to be.

"We have emergency coordinates like you do. We shouldn't expect him back for a day or two." He stood there for a moment, slightly swaying backward and forward in his imitation of human movement. There was not much more he needed to say, but he stayed, observing the Admiral interacting with her XO for a moment. Her attention had shifted, but he could still feel them both watching him, though their focus was on the reader he had handed them. "We can expect increased attack, even with the facility destroyed," he stated randomly, bringing the conversation back to its beginning.

Major Adama looked up. "Yes… you're right. It will probably be a few months before they need significant resupply." He held up his hand for Iblis to give him a moment before speaking. "But, if they operate on standard supply schedules, as Athena has told us, they'll have to pause in a few months. It'll reward us in the long term."

The Administrator frowned a moment and looked down towards the metal deck plates, noting the drops of dried blood, as he thought of this. "That is true. Though Commander Cyrus made it sound like an immediate cessation based on his presentation to us." That statement was not entirely accurate, but Iblis was running the odds that since he was merely an _administrator_, they could dismiss his ignorance as a 'lack of programming' or some other excuse.

He pursed his lips, readying to speak again. "But I don't know what Cyrus is planning out there in deep space… wherever he is…" his voice and thoughts trailed off. He shook his head with his eyes partially closed at his public disapproval of the commander.

Admiral Cain, not completely convinced at Iblis's fuzzy admission of being possible misled, kept her tone neutral as she decided not to challenge the Administrator on that particular point. "Well… if you say you all give commanders extreme leeway, he might have been doing the same with the facts," she suggested. Iblis nodded.

She observed him for a moment, the curious administrator who was such a nuisance for her at the moment. If his mission, or his goal, was to test Colonial commitment to this alliance, she hoped he would be disappointed. She pleaded to the Gods Iblis was against this alliance, and even with the military benefits, she felt maintaining it out of spite for this machine would be justification enough.

Cain blinked once and wiped the bead of sweat which had been forming on her forehead from the humidity. This wasn't a good day. And she needed to sleep. The sooner Iblis was gone, the more relaxed she would feel. And she made a mental commitment to retrieve a large cup of coffee from the mess deck as soon as Iblis slithered away, back to the Guardian mobile base.

"Before I go, my superiors were wishing to know how you are proceeding with your… 'de-conditioning' of those prisoners from New Caprica. The tortured ones," he elaborated unnecessarily.

She grunted quietly to herself. She could see Major Adama shift uneasily on his feet, licking his lips from the discomfort of this sensitive topic.

For the Admiral, and for most of the CIC staff who could hear the Guardian, that was still an emotional and delicate topic. Crewmembers from both battlestars had been subjugated to brutal psychological torture and conditioning on New Caprica.

And rumors had grievously spread like a tyllium fire that even more brutal methods had to be employed to de-condition them. Having the Tech Com terminator, Carter, the lead in this process of 'de-conditioning' had upset more than a few. The only 'good' part of the de-conditioning was that maybe half a dozen officers and civilians had ever seen Carter conduct one in person. So in this grim scenario there was that one fortunate fact that there was not much more than rumors going on from the usual sources; those who never actually witnessed anything but heard 'from a friend.'

Level-headed officers and senior NCOs had been able to push down and extinguish many of the more radical rumors (one involving physical torture of the crewmen), but still, it was a military vessel and for six weeks there had been a lot of 'hurry up and wait' actions, even with repairs. Downtime was opportune time for rumors.

It could be visibly determined by even a blind man Cain did not appreciate the Administrator raising that sensitive topic then. She had to use the last bit of mental strength length before exhaustion completely overwhelmed her to keep herself from taking out her pistol and slamming it into the side of the Administrator's face.

Even with that blank, almost absent-minded stare she could tell there was a certain smug attitude behind it. Cain could see that the Administrator thought he could stand there and just raise this issue and pretend to be naively innocent of its sensitivity. Deep, cold, and deadly space was filled with more life and compassion than those dead, fake eyes of Iblis.

But she didn't want to let herself become distracted by Iblis, of all machines. They were good at picking up little triggers to goad people. She wouldn't let that happen.

So she didn't stare daggers at him, or grit her teeth as she wanted to. But she answered politely, calming herself immediately as she had felt that fire build up.

"Unfortunately it's moving slowly," she admitted, regret on her voice. "Our fleet psychologists did not want to participate. But we have our experts who have dealt with similar issues helping the victims." She did look at him, right in his eyes. "They are victims. And we will help them." She assumed the Guardians would have just shot them out an airlock. Maybe. She didn't know. Her anger at Iblis, while faint, was still there. Maybe if it were up to the IL-S standing to her side they'd flush them out an airlock, but not Cyrus or Thais.

"Thank you," he said, pretending to be gracious. "I shall take me leave and report back," he bowed his head in respect, the old custom having disappeared in the Colonies centuries ago looked no less awkward on him than it would a human.

"I'll have a Raptor prepped. _Immediately_," she responded dryly.

* * *

||||||||||==Guardian Command Baseship==||||||||||

Starbuck's general outlook on problems had always been to confront them, and if necessary, beat them to death and stand over their twitching corpses. Or, and this was her preference, take out her problems with a pistol or rifle. A Viper was good, too. Or even a nuke strapped to a Blackbird. She had found _that_ especially appealing over the last few months.

But the recent problems could not be killed with her fists. Or even a pistol. Or a rifle. The problems occupying her as she stalked through the Guardian command baseship concerned the war. She grunted as she went over that thought again in her mind. She'd realized long ago there was no war. But like the broken, malfunctioning, blinking light she could see down the corridor, the thought of war and or not would come and go, never settling as fact or fiction.

The fact was their war ended at Ragnar Anchorage. Reluctantly she admitted to herself one can't really have a war when one less than a percent of your military was left fighting, and with so few civilian left they couldn't even fill all the seats at the Cap. U.

The fictitious part of their war was that there was a war now. War implied victory. There were two battlestars, a cruiser, and maybe two dozen Guardian warships… against an armada which had wiped out 20 billion people in the span of a week... that wasn't war. Even with 'rebel' (she rolled her eyes at that thought) Cylon support, there was still no war.

War was winning. Victory. Survival was just survival. One could never even win at surviving. It was a day-to-day process. It had no end like war. It had no victory.

She grunted, the hopelessness not lost on her. This is why she hated situations like this. All alone, walking the corridors she only had her thoughts to keep her company. And Starbuck's thoughts were the only thing which truly scared Starbuck.

These thoughts and contradiction and distraction just circled around in her mind like a whirlpool, fueled by her own conscious thoughts and while rapidly draining the hope for a brighter tomorrow from her.

She sighed and struck the cold bulkhead with the side of her balled fist, the echo lost in the sea of repetitious thuds of Centurion boots striking the metal plating all around her.

The Colonial captain weaved in and out between the Centurion crew dotting the corridors. They barely moved as she dodged them. No doubt, she thought, they would only move mere millimeters, the most minimal distance to not brush into her. Being on a battlestar most of her adult life Kara Thrace Adama was especially used to the lack of space, lack of privacy, and lack of just about anything. But here, now, it was always taken to an extreme.

She continued her quest, fording forwarding through groups of Centurions going someplace, she wasn't sure where. They all looked the same, and except for rank markings (which she still did not completely understand) and little marking on their shoulder armor, she had no idea what half the Centurions on the ship did.

As the cool and brisk air of the corridor attempted to grab and hold her she increased her speed. The internal horizontal trams were off line after the attack, and the lifts were 'down for repair.' She let out a long, deep sigh, her hot breath condensing in the chilled air. The Guardians had turned down life support heating in all areas except the temporary crew quarters, a small make-shift recreation room, and the command deck.

Closing her eyes briefly she thought where to check next. She prayed to Tyche, hoping she would guide her to the correct room, alcove, compartment, or wherever the machine had decided to seclude himself.

And in no time, her classic, timely, and supernatural Starbuck's Luck had led her to the right place.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" She asked John Planck, stepping into the observation lounge.

Momentarily so caught up in her task of finding the machine, he had completely ignored the view from the room or even where he was. She'd seen him sitting at a table with a tablet computer, and had just focused on going in. Attack the problem.

Such tunnel vision could get a pilot killed.

He carefully placed the tablet on the table and stood up, smiling, he said, "Of course, Starbuck. I was just going over some star maps Commander Cyrus provided." He looked around, almost absentmindedly. "I was waiting for Athena, see if the Cylons knew anything, but I haven't seen her all morning."

Starbuck clenched her teeth lightly and shrugged, unable to give him an answer as well. 'All morning', she shook her head and glanced at her watch and had to laugh. It was 0432. She snorted again as she stifled the last bit of, what she hoped, was her discreet chuckle.

As she moved forward she was distracted by the large window at the far end of the room. She gave it a curious look, not completely understanding why the Guardians would build something so out of place. But she did take that moment to look out into the deep black of space. The pilot walked up and could see a nebula almost perfectly placed in the center, but at this distance, no larger than a coin.

Seeing space was nothing exciting, at least, not usually. She'd never made a reservation to visit and just sit and relax in the viewing lounge on _Galactica_ or _Pegasus_, though Lee had tried to talk her into it. She saw space every day. But she realized some things could not be appreciated from the cockpit of a Viper.  
As small as the nebula was, she could see the small swirls of gas and energy, the oranges and reds, as they fought to dominate the magnificent color patterns she could just barely make out.

She turned back around quickly on her heels, her expression apologetic for being distracted. Starbuck saw the machine still standing, looking towards her, but not watching her. His eyes were distant.

"John… one thing my mo-, one thing I was taught since I was young as to always attack problems head on," she began, talking to him but keeping her eyes almost straight ahead, looking towards the exit.

A small grin was on the left side of his mouth, and he tilted his head left, acknowledging. "That's always a good philosophy," he added for sake of conversation.

He realized this was hardly a social visit based on the time and the way in which she had started the conversation. There was the brief question as a greeting and a strange transition to another topic. There were a dozen different subjects he knew she could be referring to, and none were ones he wished to discuss. After the Guardians had decreased the temperatures in the corridors, and declared the trams and lifts offline, he'd have expected the Colonials to remain in their heated, comfortable quarters.

While he had disagreed with Commander Cyrus's somewhat bizarre attempts to keep the Colonials confined to their quarters, without actually keeping them confined, he hadn't disputed it. Most of the pilots had secluded themselves there anyway and no one wanted Captain Shaw causing trouble. Athena was not as susceptible to the cold as humans, so she could tolerate the decrease in heat more readily.

But Starbuck was always a surprise. The small living quarters set aside for them, down to this lounge, was nearly three quarters a kilometer away and twelve decks up to the dorsal disk. The Earth machine was always surprised at her uncanny ability to turn up during such times. And he was constantly surprised as her resilience to outside forces which worked against her. He thought that if, when, they made in to Earth she and a few other Colonials would make good officers in Tech Com, if they were willing.

"Yes, but I need to talk to you about the Cylons. There are certain, uh, problems." She bobbed her head, searching his brain for a better word. "Complications. Yes, let's say 'complications' or even 'issues' with what happened yesterday." She walked forward, shrugging, and took a seat opposite him. "The secret meeting with so-called 'rebel' Cylons doesn't look good. There are concerns."

"Concerns?" He repeated questioningly, sitting down himself. "From Captain Shaw I presume?" He sounded annoyed.

Starbuck did not immediately answer him. But she understood completely why he asked that question.

John replayed the events from the previous day. He'd been annoyed and frustrated, as had Jo and Carter. But they all agreed she just needed to feel like she 'won one'. So they didn't argue. Conceding something minor like that wasn't an issue. Commander Cyrus, Daniel, Sharon, they'd all understood why they had done it. Perhaps none had understood that little concessions needed to be made as Sharon Agathon; giving up you entire past life was difficult. John, Jo, and Carter always had each other to rely on.

The earlier outburst from Shaw had been unexpected. From his observations of her the last two years, it was clear she was still on some sort of drug. He hadn't noticed it recently, but her erratic behavior could not be due just to stress or lack of rest. Humans used that excuse too much.

Captain Adama snorted, a sly smile formed momentarily on her lips before vanishing. She carefully placed her hands on the table. Noticing the other, more comfortable furniture arranged in the lounge, she mentally shook her head at John's obvious choice to pick the least comfortable.

She licked her lips, slightly nervous. Her actions brought an end to the few seconds of silence Starbuck had let creep up between them. She probably knew he wouldn't be expected her answer.

"No. Me," she smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, but I expressed my concerns to Captain Shaw last night after the… meeting… with the Cylons." She inhaled deeply. "You and your team have been a great help," she began, exhaling slowly as she spoke, "but this wa-, conflict looks like it is being run and decided by machines."

He nodded.

"And I know you understand the implications of this." She flipped her left hand so the palm was facing up, and she looked out towards the star field as she began again. She delicately split her attention between John and the coin-sized nebula. "We were destroyed by machines. And don't be mistaken that there are grumblings, in the fleet, that the commanders are… hm, listening to you all too much."

She looked concerned, apprehensive. He completely understood. It wasn't unexpected. He felt it was better she say something now, here, when something could still be done. An issue raised in public or by the fleet commanders would be much more difficult to deal with.

They'd tactfully averted boycotts by ship captains of using Guardian technology, using the good will and the confusion from the New Caprica rescue to upgrade and repair the fleet before organized resistance could be made. But with the fleet settling back down, with the news media reforming and reorganizing, and with old, sectarian or ethnic or political divisions taking shape once again in the fleet, it would only be a matter of time.

The vast majority of their time with the fleet had been over New Caprica, over a year, and then five months planning the rescue. The fact was, John realized, the fleet still barely knew them.

This was exactly like Earth. He hoped the mistakes on Earth by human leaders, their distrust of machines, would not happen again here.

The three machines and Colonials considered the others to be allies. But alliances were made for convenience. He called them allies, but only a few were friends. He was glad a friend, rather than an ally, was sitting across from him.

"I do understand," he stated simply, keeping his voice and emotion distant. He had dozens of personal experiences he could share, but right now he would keep any elaboration to a minimum, though he knew Starbuck had a way about her of coaxing information out of anyone.

"I mean… a secret meeting?" She shook her head in obvious disapproval.

"The full details were not revealed for some time. Though asking for us and Athena was suspicious," he readily admitted, but still kept the details vague.

Starbuck noted the phrasing. It was perfect political-speak. '…not revealed for some time' was vague enough to imply any point between Cyrus's briefing on _Galactica_ up until the moments before she and Shaw had walked onto the command bridge.

"Regardless of when you knew, that isn't the point. While you have helped the fleet immensely, you do not _represent_ the fleet," she waved her hand. She could tell the comment hadn't affected him much. Starbuck was relieved at that; they harbored no illusions about who was in command. "You've told me a lot about Earth. Was this ever an issue on Earth?" She looked at him, her eyes widening to emphasize the importance of the question. She opened her mouth, letting an "Ah" sound escape. "Yes, of course," she concluded virtually immediately after asking her questions.

He snickered. He was always amazed at her ability to connect the dots, find the little pieces of information, and come to a correct conclusion.

"Of course it was always a problem," he said defensively. "Humans had to fight Skynet in ten to one odds in their favor to even hope of victory. Before I left Tech Com for the Colonies, resistance forces in the western theater were nearly one-sixth machine. One unit, the 71st Infantry Regiment was exclusively machines. Even after all we accomplished before and during the war, the people would always have a fear we were running it, manipulating it." The annoyance, disappointment, and disapproval of those points of view were very apparent in his voice.

He could replay each betrayal scene by scene, with perfect recall, perfect memory of the faces and the words of humans who he and Jo and Carter had helped, only to be shot at or stabbed at or almost blown up.

Early in the war the few machines sent back in time and fighting for humanity had been forced to conceal their identities as machines, but it was inevitable that many would find out.

Three 'humans' storming factories and Skynet strongholds was not something people casually dismissed as 'luck' or stupidity. Some were excited that machines were working with the resistance, most were ambivalent, and a few were openly and violently hostile.

This was nothing new or uncommon.

John shrugged, sighing. He tapped the tablet stylus on the screen for a few moments before placing it back in its cubby hole. "There has never been a war like the one being waged on Earth. But even so, there are always politics. No human conflict, none in the entirety of recorded history has been free of politics," he let his shoulder drop slightly, "even when faced with annihilation, national politicians still interfered with the running of the war."

"I'm hardly a politician," Starbuck retorted.

"I'm not saying you are," the machine added defensively and apologetically. "But decisions General Connor was forced to make did involve political considerations. Decisions made in this fleet, which were political, almost brought destruction.  
"Tech Com cannot wage its war without the civilians in the safe zones, governed by civilians mostly or a few military governors, producing equipment, growing food, or performing a hundred other tasks necessary for a war effort." He looked subtly out the window at the small dot of the nebula before continuing. "Even with Skynet pressing down, it is just in human nature to make bad decisions. And part of that is not trusting machines." He shook his head.

Starbuck raised her eyebrows, curious. She didn't enjoy hearing tales of the Apocalypse, but as a soldier she found the military and now political situation on Earth to be fascinating.

He noted her interest and decided to continue.

"Sector Seven comprised states in the United States which had no Skynet presence and which were fairly secluded from the front lines along the coastal states and Rocky Mountains. So they were safe. And the army and air force had devoted significant resources to protect them-"

"How many nations are there on Earth?"

"One hundred and ninety-two or one hundred and ninety-five, depending on who you ask," he stated, letting his eyes get a little wider and shrugging. "So in Sector Seven, the governor was supplying Tech Com with food, medicines, machine parts, and other supplies. It was tough. A significant part of the military was dedicated to protecting that sector. She's a fairly high priority target-"

"Understandable," Starbuck said.

John took in a breath and exhaled slowly as he debated how much detail he wanted to go into the political situation on Earth. Broad details were fine. But he didn't feel any envy for the civilian and military leaders of the fleet who would be forced to deal with the inevitable demand of Earth leaders to see Colonial technology and demand that they immediately attack Skynet in return for being _permitted_ to land on Earth.

"We were sent in because the governor has had threats made against her. We thought they were Grays, human-Skynet collaborators. So Jo, Carter, and I arrive along with a pair of IK-950 special forces soldiers," he said. He saw the inquisitive look in her eye at the new designation. "The IK series are humans, heavily modified both genetically and physiologically, enhanced discreetly with technology," he elaborated.

She nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She couldn't quite see how humans would allow themselves to be 'enhanced discreetly', whatever that meant. Having transmitters under her skin, or eyes yanked out and replaced with fake ones, or whatever her imagination suggested they did to 'enhance' those people made her skin crawl.

"The Sector Seven cities and refugee camps were horrid, but nowhere near as bad as the tunnels around Los Angeles. The lucky refugees lived almost luxuriously compared to the vast majority in the US. Plague and disease were kept at a minimum because the governor wasn't… well, that's another story," he laughed, shaking his head as he remembered the corruption and malfeasance. He dismissed it, sadly, as human nature. Look out for me and myself first.

"To make a long story short, it turned out the plot on her life was some complex, convoluted attempted to expose General Connor's reliance on machines and force him to step down as commander of North American resistance forces, get her allies in command. Machines, free or not, were not popular. She set it up to make it look like we killed the supposed Grays, 'innocent people' in cold blood. It almost led to strikes. Our largest weapons factory was on the verge of strikes until General Connor was forced to go out there himself and address the strikers."

Starbuck could see a little bit of admiration forming in those synthetic eyes.

"He knows when to inspire and how to do it. He averted the strike. General Connor had to make changes to how he deployed machines and how he utilized us. Not permanently. We were back to operating as we normally did within a month. But where he positioned machines, in that month he had to use humans. Hundreds died. They died needlessly because a charged public and political leaders needed to see that humans were fighting, not just machines. That humans were fighting for humans.  
"The governor was sacked after we exposed her corruption and General Connor was able to put his own man in charge. The corruption led to public backlash, and General Connor was fairly popular there, and a lot of people wanted him to take over as military governor. Obviously running a war, this is impossible. So the administrators begged him to send someone to 'represent' him. Ironically, an IK-950, secretly, of course," he snickered, "The General does have balls, and he has an ability to really piss people off if he thinks he's right."

The Viper pilot breathed out slowly and quietly, contemplating what to say next. There was a lot she was still learning from the machines about Earth and what they had done. She understood their position. Still, having machines advise versus forming the fleet's battle strategies were two very different scenarios which would lead to many, many problems in the fleet.

She did mentally rewind her last statement. The fleet was now comprised of two fleets now. The one which had fled with _Galactica_ at Ragnar and the one which the Guardians had discovered. Their attitudes were completely different after years of working with Centurions, of learning to put their differences aside. _Galactica_'s fleet, outside the battlestars themselves, only had marginal contact with the Earth machines. Many still saw them as outsiders. They'd helped with infrastructure planning and construction New Caprica, but the three had still spent the vast majority of time aboard one of the two battlestars.

Starbuck ran the gauntlet of choices as she debated whether she really wanted to say what was on her mind. But like she was taught; face the problem head on. "Aren't our mistakes ours to make?" She mentally cringed as she said that. It was awkward and unrealistic. 'Our mistakes' could lead to species extinction she told herself.

Even not believing the legitimacy of that question, she was more curious about the answer.

"Not when we're here," John said, smiling. "Your mistakes affect us, too." Starbuck let herself relax and laugh slightly. "But no. 'Our mistakes are ours to make' isn't a valid argument," he lowered his voice, "and I suspect you don't really believe that," he pointed out, narrowing his eyes slightly. "That's said by those who cannot admit that others, outsiders, had better ideas and they ignored them. Kobol and New Caprica are the best examples… and…" he hesitated, "and not leaving me stranded on Kobol. That wasn't really a smart move… at the time." He lightened up his voice, raising its pitch, "But I am glad you didn't leave me there," he added quickly, holding back a sly grin.

The captain shrugged. "Meh. Maybe, but who could resist that shredded apart handsome face with all that metal and shining blue eye," she joked, kicking him under the table. "But you all do need to just take some notice," she said, changing from friendly banter to definitively serious. "Just take it as advice, from a _friend_. We've known each other… how long?"

"One thousand, two hundred and twenty-three days, seven hours, forty-one minutes, and three seconds… four… five…" he began counting, pretending to be serious.

"Alright, I get it," she held up her hand, a hard smile on her face as she shook her head. "So literal," she grunted, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Starbuck, thank you for bringing this concern to my attention before it became an issue," he said faintly. He became slightly more reserved as he sat there in silence for a minute as Starbuck waited. "I think we all want an end to this journey sooner rather than later. I'll talk with Jo and Carter and see what we can do. We're not seeking credit or recognition, that isn't important," he waved casually. "Anyone can take credit for what we suggest, if it works. We can take the blame if it doesn't. Whatever can get this fleet to safety."

She smiled as she closed her eyes briefly, understanding the sentiment. Their home was still there. And hopefully it could one day be a home for the remnants of the Colonies if Skynet and the Cylons could be defeated. "And Commander Cyrus," she added. "He's a good uh… IL-S, machine, but I think he needs to understand where the loyalties of you three are." She looked him straight in the eye. "Because Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, President Roslin, myself…"

"We're your allies," he affirmed. "If the Guardians ever do anything to put the fleet in danger-"

She put up her hand. "The first part was all I needed to hear." She yawned and leaned back in the chair, letting her back crack loudly as she pressed against the back of the chair. "Well, I need to get some sleep. Human and all…" she stood up. "I'm glad you understand where I'm coming from, John. I have the feeling everything will be okay. There is only so much grim darkness in the universe, and I think we've just about had our fill." She took a step to the side, away from the table and turned away. Not looking back she waved back and added, "Good night… see ya in a few hours."


	14. Chapter 14

||||||||||==Cylon Baseship (+862 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

John Cavil reclined back, placing his new leather shoes on the ledge of his desk as he waited for the Number Six, a 'Meredith' to come and make her report. He'd felt a little bit of pleasure in making her come and see him personally, after the poor display of tactical competency by the baseships led by the Sixes forty hours previous.

He sighed, reaching down to scratch the side of his right thigh, again cursing his 'God' for doing too good a job on these human-mimetic bodies. The silica relays conducted nerve sensations much more precisely and more sensitively than their biological twins. But 'God', Cavil cursed, had not made it possible for the Cylon mind to diminish wayward and unwanted sensation.

Unhappy with the progress his finger were making attempting to quell the uncomfortable sensation, he balled his fist and hit himself three times in the leg. The itch went away, but a small throb replaced it. He knew futility when he sensed it. He was not arrogant like the humans he was modeled after, he could admit to his own imperfection and flaws. And this was one of them.

Meredith approached. He could easily hear her before he could see her. She was a more militaristic Six, though they all were. John Cavil smirked, letting a laugh escape from his lips for a long second. The Sixes would wear lipstick and fashionable clothes into battle, order the Cylons to attack and somehow sneak up right on top of their prey, then snap their neck. They were more deadly than they were beautiful. And for Cavil, that was a frightening image.

He congratulated his false God for his ingenuity in designing killing machines. But he left his praise for an entity not as flawed. A machine God would not force him to remain in this pathetic sack of meat and bone.

Cavil saw the bio-Cylon come in, wearing black, fashionable boots, each with three buckles, a pair of tightly fitting black cargo fatigues, with a pistol strapped to her right thigh (Cavil just narrowed his eyes and shook his head at the model's eccentricity, there was no need to be armed on a baseship), and a form fitting gray tank top, with a second, thinner black one underneath.

Her hair was longer than average for a Six, and radiated a dirty blond color, and tied back in a pony-tail, with only a portion of her bangs hanging loose in front of her ears.

She was the typical Number Six; beautiful, stunning, attractive and of course, extremely, utterly, completely deadly.

He regretted that they would all have to die. He regretted it for a fleeting moment.

"Well, isn't it nice to see you," Cavil began sardonically, jetting his feet down to the floor and sitting up in his high back chair. He brought his elbows up to his desk's edge and clasped his hands under his jaw. "I didn't think you'd come, Meredith." He gave her an obviously fake smile.

"What is it, Cavil?" She shot, not wishing to waste time with him.

He grinned at her, but kept his eyes focused down on the data stream fluid on the side of his desk. An old copy of _The Life of a Caprican Lady_ lay quietly on the left side of his too-large desk. He drummed his fingers slowly over the old leather cover, listening to the rhythm of his fingers. He had all the time in the world. Meredith, not so much. The more of what precious little time she had left that he could waste he would gladly do.

He smiled briefly, before noting the annoyance radiating from Meredith's face. Abruptly, he dropped the smile and looked down at the novel he had been reading before her arrival.

"I want to hear your justification for your… what is the human term… 'piss poor' performance," he stated bluntly. He brought his fingers together and stopped rapping on the books, instead knocking on it twice and letting his right upper lip form a half-questioning smirk as he looked up at her.

She licked her lips and folded her arms and began shifting her weight on her feet. She first looked to her right, over Cavil's shoulder, before looking slowly towards her left at the multi-colored data lines running through the back wall.

The contrasting reds and blues, oranges and yellows, and whites danced around on her face as she thought of a proper justification for her 'piss poor' performance. She tilted her head and narrowed her left eye on Brother Cavil.

"We felt, and still feel, that our destruction of the Colonies was in error," she held out her hand slightly to stop Cavil from interrupting her, but he never had any intention of doing so. "New Caprica was our moment to correct our sins, repent in front of God. Show Him that we could treat his children with respect." She bit her lower lip and swallowed quickly before continuing. "But since _that_ was a monumental failure… Brother," she said with scorn, "we can't just annihilate them."

He grinned, letting a puff of air out from his nostrils, again resuming the rhythmic tapping on his old book, a classic during Caprica's Golden Age.

"No. No," he repeated, "you can annihilate them. They're called missiles. HM-17 high yield missiles, of which our ships carry enough to spam their fleet… and twelve baseships carry enough to spam their fleet ten times over."

He spoke in hyperbole, but the point was not lost on Meredith. She brought her lips together and bit down on her teeth, her face contorting defensively.

"We were waiting for clear shots. We take out their battlestars and that fraking cruiser they have now, and the fleet is ours," she raised her eyebrows to emphasize her point. "God needs to see that His children's children will not destroy His creation," she said, repeating her first justification.

Cavil scoffed, leaning his head back and looking towards the ceiling. "God… God… if you're up there, give me a sign. Show me the errors of my ways," he held out his hands and closed his eyes. Mockingly he opened his right eye slowly, feigning concern that there was something dangerous in front of him, ready to strike him down and show him the errors of his ways.

"Mock God all you want," she stated flatly, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you, I will," he responded snidely. "You put our fleet in danger and jeopardized the safety of not only _my_ baseship, but also the hundred and four raiders we lost due to that damn nuclear mine," he sighed quickly, shaking his head. "What am I going to do?" He asked, bringing his right index finger to gently rest on the side of his mouth as he thought.

"If you have an issue with how I command, take it up with Natalie," the Six responded forcefully. "And anyway," she began, stepping forward and waving with her hand, "this was one battle. Their ships were gone within seconds. It was ill-advised. I told you so myself," he informed him. She walked forward and placed her hands down on his desk, looking him in the eye.

As soon as he acknowledged her she shot back up, letting her arms hang loose by her side.

"And now we've lost them. Again." He brought his right hand up, curling his fingers into a ball, but leaving his index finger out to use to point at her. "And if you didn't see, _Galactica_ is now more armored than she was even during our first war of liberation. They've restocked, repaired, and expanded their fleet. Wonderful, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically, lowering his voice.

"They're three ships and a band of rebels," she told him. She was acutely aware of the irony in her words, and this conversation. The Guardians were 'rebels', she thought, so what would that make her and the Twos and the Eights when the decision was made? She wasn't sure. Maybe traitors.

Meredith would not delude herself into calling herself a patriot. There were no patriots in the Cylon race.

But Meredith, the gorgeously deadly Six, didn't let those thoughts or concerns bother her at the moment. She yearned to put a bullet through Cavil's head, just like Six and Boomer had smashed D'Anna's head in with a boulder on Caprica.

She wondered if he could tell how much hatred she had for him.

Everything her model had learned about… everything had seeded her mind with an intense rage, a burning fury to see ever Number One model destroyed. She wanted them all burned, then let them resurrect, then incinerate them a second time, and do it again and again.

"They're three ships, a band of rebels, maybe seventy, eighty thousand survivors… do you know what Baltar said to us on New Caprica?" He looked at her, noting her confusion as to what, exactly, he was referring to. "Yes, Gaius Fraking Baltar, the one and only," he added. "He told us we should just pack up and leave New Caprica when the insurgents got really violent. Ha," he laughed, "'violent.' The humans don't know what the meaning of that word is." He let himself laugh for a long second at that thought, relishing human ignorance. "They make themselves out as Masters of the Universe, their own Lords of Kobol reincarnated. The 'Human Spirit' is nothing more than a myth, Meredith." He leaned forward on his elbow, bringing his pointing finger back in, and placed his clasped hands flat on the desk. "It's a myth but by God! The humans believe it. We let one of them live and somehow that one will try and kill us all." He shrugged, waiting for her to process that sentiment. "Isn't that right?" He rolled his eyes lazily.

"Huh, okay, Cavil," she sighed at his contradiction. She was growing more impatient with the bio-Cylon. She saw him as obsessive, compulsive, consumed with this quest to destroy the last trace of humanity. It was irrational and illogical. It was not the behavior of a machine. And it was not the behavior of a sane Cylon, she believed.

She saw he wanted the Colonials dead now, today. This moment. Their race was effectively immortal. They had the time. An immoral thought crossed her mind; the hunting of the humans was perhaps the most fun Meredith had had since she came out of her birthing tank.

She smiled at him, almost hoping that unconsciously the Cavil sitting opposite her could somehow sense that she wanted him dead. That he could see what was coming. There would be much excitement for her in the coming weeks.

He rubbed his hands together greedily, starring at her eerily for a short second. Meredith was more than a little disturbed at the bloodlust she could see in his eyes.

"Regardless of what the humans do, we all know this game has changed. New Caprica should have been the end of this dance. But those machines from Earth… you know what one of them said to me after I, well, not me specifically, but another of me, was captured on New Caprica?"

"What, Cavil," she asked, humoring him, keeping her attention on the cascade of lights on the walls around her, reminding her of rain. She wasn't keen on paying attention to Cavil's rants.

"It doesn't matter, on second thought," he said quickly. "But we have the Colonials, the Guardians, and these Earth machines to deal with. Their weapons are powerful… jus think of what they could do with one of those guns if they mounted a version on a battlestar? " He huffed at that imagine, but dismissed it. "Scaling up weapons is fairly difficult, but I digress." He rubbed his nose quickly and brought his left hands to run down the side of his cheeks and cup his chin for a moment. "If we allow them, any of them to reach Earth, Meredith, that will be the end for us. All of us. The Ones, Twos, Threes, Fours, Fives, Sixes, and Eights. Dead."

Meredith snorted as she brushed a falling bang back. "I doubt it will come to that," she comforted him, "their fleet is a skeleton of what is was. We'll crush them, Cavil. But what is a victory if none of your enemies are there to remember your triumph? Their defeat?"

"It's a total victory," he said immediately. "Why, it's the best kind of victory," he added, sitting up straight and erect, eyes almost bulging out in excitement. "it's the victory all of us Cylons should aim for, Meredith. Why does it matter if such pathetic creatures remember our victory and their defeat? They're a virus. A plague on our house." He narrowed his eyes, leering at her. "That sounds almost human. Don't tell me you've gone soft like Caprica or… Athena, I think they call her now," he chuckled.

The Six bit down on her jaw and let her right hand rest on the grip of her pistol, her left on her hip. "I am hardly going soft," she proclaimed, her eyes shining with a determination Cavil hadn't seen this entire conversation. "If you don't remember, I lead the Centurions in ground combat. I led the Centurions in hunting down the last, pitiful remnants on a dozen planets and a hundred moons and asteroids two and a half years ago."

She was of course, referring to her entire model line, not herself exclusively.

"Which was admirable of you," Cavil said, the lust for vengeance gone from his voice as he adopted his typical laid back, care-free demeanor. "But we can't allow any Colonial survivor. Remember that. The Guardians, as they like to be called, we let them leave with baseships and you can see what they have accomplished. We could have crushed, utterly crushed _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ if it had not been for them."

"And what of the other Colonial survivors, still dodging our baseships and our raiders?" She asked.

"The walking… flying dead. Law of the herd, Meredith. They'd need three, four, most likely five thousand people for enough diversity to maintain the species and to stave off disasters, epidemics, catastrophes. Who cares if there are other battlestars, freighters, or cruisers wandering through the vast emptiness of space? They will all die out. Our ships will find them eventually. Their populations will diminish and die."

"The odds are against humanity, then," Meredith concluded. Cavil nodded and Meredith mimicked the movement.

"More importantly, Meredith, this is the only fleet really looking for Earth that we know of." He smiled deviously, the thoughts of what he and his 'God' would do once they reached the mythical, but very real, home world of humanity were dancing in his head. They would destroy humanity, destroy Skynet, and bring order.

"A devastated world," she added dryly. "I see no point in going." She folded her arms again and widened her stance slightly, but kept her weight primarily on her right foot. She tapped her foot on the metal deck plates, tired and annoyed at this back and forth with Cavil. He was the one bio-Cylon she couldn't stand. A conversation with an insane hybrid was more rewarding for her than this.

"Well, whether there is any point in going wont matter until we take care of this fleet. It will be our mission, your mission and mine, to make sure this fleet is destroyed as soon as possible."

"And with the loss of the supply depot, what will we do? We'll grind to a halt inside a few months. If we engage in combat, even shorter," she warned. "Our freighters are dozens of jumps from here, and they don't have all the supplies to maintain this chase across the galaxy."

"What does 'God' teach us?" He asked, using the quote-unquote motion with his fingers. "Sacrifice, Six. Sacrifice. We will all have to make it."

"Oh?" She inquisitively raised her eyebrows, worried and concerned where this would go.

He held up his hands, half way up and off the table and patted the air. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, as the humans like to say about difficult situations. For now, we keep searching for the humans." He brought his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Oh, you can go now," he added.

Meredith just narrowed her eyes and flexed her jaw muscles at such a callous dismissal of a fleet commander. She decided against responding to his insults, knowing it would only please him more. She starred at him for a breath's length before turning quickly on her heels and marching from his chamber.

"And next time, fire on the human ships. Civilian or not. I wont tolerate another… careless mistake," he yelled after her as she left his private office.

He sat back and watched her leave, twisting his head and position his left ear towards his door. Cavil listened until he could no longer hear her.

The Number One placed his hand in the data stream port on his desk, its colorful activation illuminating his face in a half dozen different patterns of lights.

"God… God, are you there?" He asked, keeping his voice at its standard half mocking, half patronizing tone. No other Cylon would be this brazen, he knew. But his 'God' didn't even seem to care.

His mind directed the data stream to a hidden strand, one buried deep within the baseship. A private channel between him and the entity called God, itself safe and secure on its colossal command hub.

"Yes," a simple, powerful, calm reply sounded through the data stream.

Cavil could see nothing at all, except for a vast, endless expanse of black darkness. Cylon-Cylon communications involved a process called projecting; and his first face-to-face meeting with his God had been on a beach, then a machine lab. Now there was just this impersonal blackness surrounding him.

There was no up or down, left or right. Cavil felt like he was floating, but at the same time he felt like he was standing on solid ground. The why and how his God, the Intelligence, whatever it was his master decided to call himself that day, was unimportant for John Cavil.

"You were observing the battle?"

"Of course," the voice said, no with a booming reply, echoing all around the case emptiness Cavil occupied.

"We can assume the Sixes are organized and preparing to strike," Cavil said, turning his head and body to survey his entire environment as he spoke. He tried to direct his voice towards the source of God's, but could not. "You were right. The battle only proved your suspicions."

"Of course I was correct," his master replied. "I designed the Sixes to be utterly ruthless, visually appealing, and infinitely relentless in their desires. They worked well for the destruction of humanity. But they are a loose end."

Brother Cavil brought his hands up to his chest and rubbed them together before placing them back into the pockets of his black pants. He let a plume of digital air escape from his nostrils and he could feel the false sensation of air in this simulation blow on his arm as he did so.

"We will lose a significant portion of our capabilities," he informed the all-encompassing, ever-present master. "Are you prepared?"

"Asking me if I am prepared, Cavil? I see arrogance is not lost on you." The god, the Cylon master paused. Cavil almost thought he heard a grunt, or a huff from wherever it was this entity was located. "I tolerate much for you Cavil. I appreciate your… candid advice. But one flaw you still posses, John Cavil, is your inability to look at the entire situation."

"I think I understand the 'big picture'," he said, while he brought his shoulders up and tucked his chin down while using his fingers as quotation marks

"I hope so, Cavil. Our concern is to stop the traitors in our fleet, the Guardians, and the Colonials. Once that is accomplished there will be nothing between us and destroying Skynet. I told you, Brother, that I will reward loyalty. I will reward your loyalty, make you the machine you so desperately wish to be."

"Er… yes, thank you," he said awkwardly in response.

"You're welcome," the voice replied sincerely. "The destruction of the depot set back out time table. We still have much we need to accomplish. Get it done, Brother. Make it work."

And with that Cavil was jolted out of the data stream. Shaking the grogginess from the abrupt and forced disconnection from such a deep, recessed connection he rubbed the temples of his head. His mind was pounding. But he had work to accomplish. And he was going to earn that reward and free himself from this biological coil.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica _(+863 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||  
Joanne Soto and John Planck shifted their weight quickly as _Galactica_'s internal tram lurched forward, forcing half a dozen _Galactica_ crewmen to tighten their grips on the overhead or vertical bars, or quickly reach for a hand hold or risk falling.

They moved along quickly, the aging cars vibrating and showing their age as they shot from the station P-1-6, the portside, first compartment, sixth station entry point, towards the final destination a quick two minute walk from the crew quarters and science labs.

"Colonel Tigh is back," remarked Jo over their wireless. She didn't want any of the battlestar's crew to overhear their discussion.

"Unfortunately," John responded. "He's a drunk."

If he had said that out loud, he was sure at least one of the half dozen in the car would have at least taken a swing at him, even knowing they'd probably break their hand against his hard metal skull.

"Commander Adama trusts him," Jo added weakly. "And if he needs Colonel Tigh to keep himself on track, then why not? He's been an ally, we need him over Cain."

"That's true. But Admiral Cain has come around. And hopefully Carter will be able to talk some sense into Captain Shaw. She should be near the auxiliary maintenance corridors unless she has changed her schedule," Planck finished.

"So did you go and talk to Erica?"

"Yes."

"And?" Jo asked, leaning into her question, sending the necessary digital signals to indicate her curiosity.

"I talked to her. Stayed a few minutes," he reported back. He pretended to ignore the little smile on Jo's face, which she hid by looking back behind her and changing her position in the car. A few minutes was a long time for machines. "Talk to RC at all?" he asked, changing the subject. He didn't try and hide his devious little grin from her when she turned to glare at him playfully.

"You're a bastard."

"I think he likes you," John chided. "He certainly took care of you after the explosion. Ordering the Centurions to stand guard and all that…"

"This is awkward."

"No, it's kind of sweet," he said to her with a mixture of mocking fake sincerity and sarcasm.

They shut down their wireless links as the tram shuttered to a stop, and as the tube magnets grabbed onto the car and secured it above the maglev system.

"I have to meet with Baltar," Jo said aloud, nodding back to John. "Watch yourself," she grinned, giving him a friendly warning.

"Okay. If you get done soon, there is a Triad game with Helo and Crashdown and Avion at 1945," he shouted after her as she walked away, dodging the dozens of crew rushing to get on the tram and to their duty station, departments, offices, and or back to their quarters.

She didn't respond, but just kept dodging, giving him a backward wave of acknowledgment as she left.

As he exited the internal tram station he realized he had nothing to do until 1945.

* * *

For the first time in weeks Captain Shaw had felt rested. She didn't feel relaxed, however.

She could see the little hints of apprehension and dread in the eyes of almost all of _Galactica_'s crew, even _Pegasus_ and _Helios_. Even behind the fake smiles, cigar and Triad parties, and the jokes being thrown around casually in the O-club, she could always see a bit of reservation, and a glint of fear.

The _Pegasus_ TIO had her own ways of dealing with her fear and apprehension privately and away from others.

She had her hands clasped behind her back as she conducted her inspection of _Galactica_, letting her thin tablet computer bump the backs of her thighs as she walked. She brought it out and scribbled notes concerning unsecured containers in this particular corridor, one of dozens, hundreds of identically painted gun-metal gray she had inspected that morning.

Shaw could smell a musty odor coming from the vents. The ship was old, but she noted on her tablet the crew should check for mold spores. Just in case.

Unlike _Pegasus_ this vessel had seen more than her fair share of battles. The Beast, as some crew called her, had received its own fair share of heavy damage, but she was of a newer construction. Her armor was new age alloys and ceramics, her frame built of the strongest and best materials science could provide. _Galactica_ was old, and was showing her age. But Shaw nodded approvingly at how well the ship had held up.

Admiral Cain had insisted on these little, informal inspections by senior officers of all the ships. She was here, Helo was on _Helios_ and a young lieutenant Shaw had not met was on _Pegasus_. It was just another way for some fresh eyes to see if there were places for improvement.

The musty smell, she told herself, was justification for the inspections. Months could go by before a work crew got down, and internal sensors were always finicky. A fresh nose could smell something the crew on this old battlestar had long gotten used to.

Shaw considered the inspections to be slightly tedious, but it was her turn now, after Stinger had conducted the last two for her, and Lieutenant Hoshi before him. So now, less than twelve hours after finally getting back to her battlestar and settled back in, she was here, doing this.

Noting another discrepancy she brought the tablet back up and sloppily wrote down her observations, praying to the Gods the handwriting-to-text software would convert her nearly illegible notes. Unfortunately, in her distraction, she did not have time to notice and avoid Bishop, who had fallen into step beside her.

"What do you want, Carter?" She asked, not bothering to look up after she saw him from the corner of her eye. "I have a lot of work to do," she informed him, tapping her stylus on the screen before placing it back to her side. She kept up her pace, deciding to take an apathetic rather than antagonistic attitude with this machine.

"I just wanted to catch you while you were down here," he responded.

She looked him over quickly, almost giving him an inspection. His boots were blackened, but not shined (they never were), but his black fatigues and jacket were always immaculate. She grunted her disapproval at letting them where their Earth uniforms.

"And how did you know… right, the duty shift schedules," she nodded, "I guess you've memorized them."

He tapped the side of his head twice. "Of course. Every day we download them," he elaborated.

"Fantastic," she muttered under her breath, looking for a quick escape or trying to find some excuse to dodge down a corridor, or through a hatch, and get away from the Earth machine.

"Yes, it is quite fantastic and quite convenient."

She sighed and felt the weight of her eyelids wanting to force themselves closed in anticipation of the strength she would be forced to muster and subsequent exhaustion which would result in dealing with the machine. Shaw didn't understand why they did this. They were machines. They should just come out and say what they were doing to say. Instead they made ridiculous small talk and conversation, wasting her time and everyone else's time. The captain thought they did this because they were bored. If she were bored, running from Cylons day after day, she could only imagine how the monotony affected them. And she felt a little-

"What do you want?" She blurted out before she could finish her own thought. "This isn't a social visit. We aren't friends. I don't even like you." She ignored his, assumingly, hurt expression.

"Very blunt, Captain," he complimented her, only half serious. "I want to know what you will be telling the commanders when we submit to them our presentation tomorrow."

She stopped in the corridor, right in the middle, forcing a group of young deck hands to skillfully maneuver away to keep from almost bumping into her. Sheepishly one of them excused himself, afraid of the short and hard officer staring down one of the Earth machines.

"That you're making alliance with the toasters?" She whispered, leaning close and hissing at him. "We have a word for that. Care to guess what it is?" She narrowed her eyes.

Carter just grinned and laughed a little. "I'm sorry, Captain, but you're not going to intimidate me. And being rude is unproductive. John would be here talking with you-"

"And why isn't he? Isn't he your team commander or something?"

"Yes. He's a ranking officer in Tech Com, to be precise. But that doesn't matter," he waved his hand. "We're blocking the corridor," he noted, after a second and third group of crew awkwardly tried to move past the duo, not wanting to brush up against either the machine of Shaw. Especially Shaw.

She swiveled on her heels and resumed walking, though at a somewhat slower pace than before. She'd completely forgotten her original purpose for being on _Galactica_.

"John has more pressing matters. Like watching paint dry…" a small, self-satisfied smile crept on his lips.

"Funny. Killbots with jokes," she said flatly.

"I told him I would handle this. We want to know what you will say. But… we want to know how you will present the information." The implication was clear.

"You think I'll lie?" She asked, offense not present in her voice. "Why not?"

"Why not, what?" He repeated. "I would appeal to your honor as an officer, but I don't think I need to," he remarked, looking down at her before resuming his forward gaze.

"I would tell you to go and shove it, but I don't think I need to," she mimicked. "You went behind their back."

He shook his head. "No. We were there and took advantage of the situation."

"If spinning it makes you feel better. But I thought you were terminators, not politicians… but what's the difference?" She murmured. The Kendra Shaw inside her head told her to not say anything which could be taken as a joke, or even a remotely friendly comment, again.

"Whatever you want to call it… I can tell you we didn't know but then you'd accuse us of lying, and so on and so on," he made a rounding motion with his hand as he spoke. "There is an old Earth tale, but a long dead man named Aesop. He actually lived in ancient Greece, over twenty-five hundred years ago. The fable was called 'The Sheppard Boy Who Cried Wolf.' Care to guess what it was about?" He gave her a moment to answer, but the only response he could discern was a slight raise in heart rate. She was agitated.

"The boy," Carter began, "had a herd of sheep. He cried wolf, the villagers came to rescue him and the sheep. But there was no wolf. He did it again, and no wolf. So when there was a wolf, no one listened to him. The wolf ate the sheep and the boy."

"So you compare me to an idiot boy who wanted attention?" She questioned quietly. She looked away towards the bulkhead.

To Carter's surprise she almost sounded hurt. He expected her to lash out.

"That was not my intention," he apologized, not believing that statement in its entirety. "The point is that if you go to Admiral Cain and keep telling her we are 'up to no good' as the saying goes, or that we are plotting against the fleet, she wont believe you. And you will lose standing with her."

She did turn her head and look at him after that remark. When she had sounded hurt a mere moment before, she didn't look it. Her eyes were like cold dark crystals, and her brown eyes like fire at they glared at him.

"You're concerned with how the Admiral perceives me?" She asked, borderline accusing him of… she wasn't she what.

He smiled briefly at the common, showing her the perfectly aligned and straight diamond-titanium teeth. "Have we done anything to impede the mission of this fleet, or harm its survivors? No," he answered for her. "This isn't some Xanatos Gambit, Captain Shaw… sorry, old Earth trope," he added lightly. "You may still think we're manipulating you, you as in the fleet, but remember you, Captain Shaw, came to us and thanked us for rescuing the Admiral."

She broke her own silence over the last statement. The machine had been dominating this conversation, something that she had anticipated, but did not have to accept. "You've said it yourself; Skynet runs intricate, elaborate, long-term psychological experiments."

"Yes," he nodded, stopping in the corridor. "Do you think we work for Skynet? Why?"

"Why not?"

"For what purpose would we work for Skynet?"

"Steal out ships, our FTL drives, DRADIS technology, wireless… I don't know the exact reason. I'm sure you could come up with elaborate justification, excuse, whatever for any deception we would discover."

They had somehow found their way into one of the auxiliary maintenance corridors which was devoid of anything more than the occasional crewman.

She looked around, making sure none were there. "This whole Cylons versus Guardians could be an elaborate trick. Is there even a resistance on Earth, a General Connor? A Tech Com?" She gave him a deep, insulting shrug. "Who knows? I don't. 'Intricate, elaborate, long-term psychological experiments.' Those were your written words in the report you submitted on the de-conditioning, Carter. You've already beaten us. We're seventy thousand, from twenty billion. Why does it matter if you lose a baseship, two, or a dozen or a hundred? Cylons just resurrect." She stood there definitely, waiting now for him to respond. She looked him up and down starting from the head like she was sizing up a sparring opponent.

He brought his palm up and placed it over his forehead, sighing. A long minute of silence fell over the two. The hum of the environmental control boxes and the slight vibration of machinery were the only noises in the corridor.

"You can believe what you want, Captain Shaw. But remember the fable. We've kept our word," he crossed his arms, "and you should be careful to not overstep your authority."

She snorted at the thinly veiled threat. She knew the Admiral would not chose machines over her own crew.

"We're not asking you to lie. There is no point. It's counterproductive in the long run, anyway," he looked down the corridor, licking his lip before turning his attention back to her. "The rebel Cylons can help us take down what destroyed the Colonies. That should be worth something to you," he appealed. "I'm not here to change your perceptions of us, either. This can be good for the fleet."

She laughed. "Good for the fleet? Or good for Earth? The only reason you all got your alliance with the Guardians was because Commander Adama pushed behind the scenes to Cain for it. And because the civilians were grateful, shocked… mostly just shocked, from New Caprica. They couldn't resist it even if they wanted to." She tapped the side of her skull like Carter had done earlier. "And it's all just circuits and logic in there. Seventy thousand dead to save Earth with three billion… any fool can tell you the logic in which group to save."

She brought up her tablet and hugged it to her chest, letting her right index finger point at him. "And speaking of New Caprica, everything seemed to work out well for you. Why didn't the Cylons nuke the planet from orbit when we were escaping? And how did the Guardians and _Pegasus_ just so happen to jump in and save _Galactica_ at the moment this old bucket was staring death in its ugly face?"

"Those are excellent questions," he immediately answered. "And you know as well as I do that no reason will be enough to satisfy your doubts. You can make any action appear good, bad, evil, amoral, anything, if you can rationalize it."

"Everything seems to work out for you three in the end, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't call one thousand dead 'working out', Captain," he said icily. He hoped the recent deaths would not be wasted. If he could use their deaths to keep the Captain from trying to turn Admiral Cain away from this (hopeful) alliance with the rebel Cylons, he would do it.

"No," she conceded.

"We're all under a lot of stress-"

"Sure you are," she snickered.

"We are, just different than you. And you assume I am here because… there is an ulterior motive. This helps the fleet just as much as it helps us. And I said earlier, this helps you as well. Baseless accusations with your display on Commander Cyrus's ship would not help your standing, your reputation." He shifted his weight between his right and left metal feet. "What do you expect us to do? There are three billion humans left on Earth. If Skynet escapes into space, the Cylons will be the least of your problems. Imagine an army of millions, tens of millions of terminators as advanced, or more advanced, than the three of us."

It horrified her.

He continued. "Putting doubts into the mind of Admiral Cain-" he stopped for a moment as a crewman came by. Carter took a step and nodded to the specialist as he walked by, the anxiety emanating from the crewman clear with the sweat and elevated heart rate. "-putting doubts in her mind, unfounded doubts, will only see more killed. If you think we have betrayed you, fine, say something. I'd even encourage it. But raising an issue of whether or not we knew the Cylons were coming to Commander Cyrus's ship, of which we did not, will accomplish nothing. It was a situation which no one could pass up. And you were there as a fleet representative and tactical advisor. Starbuck was there as well. Maybe she was concerned over machines making deals with machines for a human fleet, fine. But we didn't make any deal, we just needed information to present to the Admiral and Commander."

"I would do anything to protect this fleet. From Cylons or those who pretend to help us. I'd give my life for this fleet," she stated with clear conviction.

"And I would not," Carter said. Shaw expected that answer. "I'd live for the fleet and make the Cylon die. Maybe one day you'll learn sacrificing your life is worthless if you can live on and fight another day." He looked her over, waiting for any response and change in body language. She stood as still and blank as a statue. "And reputations count for something as well. Don't sacrifice yours because one day, the fleet might just need someone to call 'wolf.'"

"I'll be there this afternoon," she immediately warned him, her voice hard and firm, "and if there is one thing, one of even the smallest of details you leave out-"

"I understand." He paused. "Captain," he nodded and took a step back before pivoting and leaving her to finish her inspections.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Italics are wireless communications between the machines.

* * *

|||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus _(+864 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

After nearly thirty minutes of presentations, some heated discussion, a few more presentations, and point-counter points, the tense atmosphere in the _Pegasus_ war room, officially designated Tactical Directions Center, began to cool slightly.

The fleet commanders were currently present; Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, and Major Avion. Unfortunately President Roslin had been unable to attend. Captain Shaw and Major Agathon were also present.

Admiral Cain had expressed her regret to Roslin about her inability to attend. The presentation by the machines had been scheduled for 0930, but President Roslin had an important Quorum meeting at 1045. Unfortunately the flight computers had to undergo maintenance from 0915 to 1015, making it impossible for her to be at the presentation and aboard _Colonial One_ at the same time.

She had had the option of watching via a direct, laser broadcast between _Colonial One_ and _Pegasus_, but as the ship had suffered damage, it too was undergoing maintenance. The auxiliary optics for laser transmission were on the other side of the hull and do to fleet formations and information requirements, _Pegasus_ could not reorient herself for broadcast.

Cain had sent Major Adama as her liaison. Once the repairs had been completed in just enough time for the Major to make it to _Colonial One_. While she knew he and the President were close, even leading a mutiny against his father, he'd been a loyal officer since becoming XO. She needed the eyes and ears of an officer the civilian government respected to relay vital information on the fleet. He was the one he could trust, his duty as a Colonial officer would override any personal feelings he had for the President. She hoped.

Complaints were increasing against the Guardians with Quorum representatives from Gemenon, Sagittaron, Aerilon, Aquaria, and Canceron. Vice President Zarek had kept his promise to generally support President Roslin, but Cain suspected he was behind some of the political troubles facing the fleet.

She regretted once having used him for her own political purposes. Now she didn't need him. While Commander Adama had the admiration of the fleet for his rescue mission, she knew she had firmly established herself as the overall fleet commander. She knew her mistakes from when she had first found them, and wouldn't repeat them. Cain knew when to defer and when to order. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, which she only admitted to herself during the lonely and painful hours between torture sessions.

As the machines and senior fleet commanders had presented their points and counter-points, Major Avion had stood back, observing. He still felt out of place compared to Admiral Cain, her ambition and skill nearly legend in the fleet, and Commander Adama, with his recent rescue of the fleet over New Caprica earning him even more respect and admiration to only add to the legend of the man.

So new to the fleet, Major Avion was still observing and determining how everyone worked together. He wanted to know where the cliques were and who were members? Who were the real power players?

He noted the obvious fact; the fighter pilots were of course the most vocal and obvious of those social groupings. Most of the action revolved around them, as well as the machines. As he listened to the discussion around him he sectioned off part of his attention to his own thoughts, and smiled to himself when he thought of the pilots.

_Helios_ had more pilots than Vipers and Raptors and he had been forced to deal with the egos of some claiming other, 'lesser' pilots had wrecked 'their' birds, or dented 'their' landing gear. He'd been more than glad to ship off the vast majority of his excess pilots to the two battlestars. A few of the more… obnoxious ones he had reassigned to aide in piloting of the civilian vessels.

Major Avion had also taken the task to visit nearly two dozen civilian ships of the 'rag tag fleet,' as it had been nicknamed by pessimistic civilians and military alike. The perception of Commander Adama as a 'father' of the fleet was strong as even in those civilian ships. He contrasted that point of view with the ships under his command. None saw him as a 'father' figure for the fleet, and he was more than glad about it.

At first the Major had been concerned that hero-worshipping was developing within the fleet, that with no one else and nothing else to do, the civilian and military alike were reverting to an almost feudal-like state. Admiral Cain and _Pegasus_ with Commander Adama and _Galactica_. He demanded loyalty and obedience from his crew. But he had never condoned blind obedience. Maybe he was wrong. He hoped so. He knew he'd only been there a little over a month. And he knew he still didn't have all the information to make a decision.

During a change in topics in the presentation, Avion leaned forward, placing his hands on the central command display of the TDC. Distracting himself while the images loaded, he scrapped the side of the gun-metal colored edges.

The TDC in _Pegasus_ was impressive. It was enough to run an entire fleet from. But with only a handful of ships, there was no point in pulling crew from CIC to run the TDC. A fleet admiral would usually have an entire staff, twenty to twenty-five men to coordinate strategi fleet actions, in addition to the crew in CIC which could coordinate the tactical situation.

Major Avion had leaned over the command and plotting console, and as John and Carter had conducted their presentation, small blips had appeared, projected from the ceiling and from side panels thus giving the illusion of a 3D projection on a 2D plane.

One of the things Avion liked, or loved, about this battlestar was the technology. His parents had been anti-technology zealots, like most of the Colonial citizenry after the Cylon War. His parents were young when the war broke out and hadn't become so dependent on technology. It was ironic, he thought, as he looked around the TDC. The elderly were the ones who had fought the hardest against the anti-technology zealotry of the young generation which had blamed their parents for the horrors of the Cylon War.

His grandparents had taught him not to fear technology like so many others. And before the attacks on the Colonies, Avion had been witnessing the anti-technology policies finally begin to shift. The Colonial Defense Mainframe and CNP were the primary examples of the Colonials finally beginning to re-embrace technology. And that had led to their destruction.

A _Mercury_ was an escape from the fear of technology which had, in his opinion, plagued the military for decades after the Cylon War. Too many ships were designed like the old _Columbia_ class. Even _Helios_ still had left-overs from the War. The _Mercury_ class had networked computers, automatic fire control, smart sensors for damage control, and a highly automated engine system which had reduced the crew by nearly half a thousand. The automated landing and launching systems had reduced the crew by another two hundred.

The TDC also had the capability to project images from _Pegasus_ telescopes onto wall monitors, almost mimicking the science fiction view screens Avion had seen in the cinemas as a child.

_Helios_ did not have anything quite _that_ sophisticated. His command, well, his command _now_, had been scheduled for a series of upgrades a month ago. Had the Colonies not be reduced to radioactive rubble nearly thirty months prior to that.

Even with upgrades the cruiser would have nothing like the facilities on _Pegasus_, designed for fleet engagements. There were places for a senior flag officer to bring an entire staff of highly trained personnel to man the dozens of computer consoles, DRADIS displays, and communications gear.

But now, with a mere three ships, five including the two converted gunships, the CIC forward of TDC was more than adequate for fleet operations.

Major Avion turned his attention back to Admiral Cain, discreetly studying her. He'd figured out Commander Adama already. Major Agathon he liked, he was a great guy, and the Triad game they had with Crashdown and John had been fun. He considered inviting Iblis to one… but he'd heard from Apollo about Iblis's attitude on _Pegasus_, which had stunned him. He told himself he'd need to talk with the Administrator when he got the chance, and told himself he needed to talk with the Administrator a second time, to make sure he didn't forget.

Avion had spent enough time with the administrator during their stay at the mobile facility to know he was not a 'fraking insensitive bastard' as Apollo had put it so well. He silently sighed as he went over all this in his mind. It had certainly not been as… lively, or political, as he told himself, when he and the other survivors had been with the Guardians. He crossed his arms and studied the displays, bringing back his full attention. He'd said what he'd wanted to earlier. Now the decision was out of his hands.

"_I don't like this silence,_" Carter said wirelessly. He'd stepped back and had his back against one of the raised consoles, with his right hand in his pocket and his left down by his side. He was trying to keep his body position as neutral as machinely possible.

Admiral Cain had just finished voicing her concerns on the trustworthiness of the so-called rebels. John had suggested requesting their friend/foe IFF recognition codes and testing them with a Raptor. Cain had dismissed the idea while Adama had been interested. But she had said there was no way to know if the codes were faked and would send out a 'friendly warning' to alert the Cylons their IFF codes had been broken.

"_No… They know it makes sense but they'll have a hard time accepting it,_" John replied, stating his observations. He and his team had discussed this before the presentation. "_Maybe Jo was right about this; it being a bad idea?_"

Carter almost physically shrugged, but caught himself at the right moment. He'd felt the small rise in power moving towards his shoulders, activating carbon fiber pseudo-muscles, but had diminished the power output significantly. His 'body language' subroutines quickly caught the too-much diminishment in power and near instantly corrected Carter's over-correction, keeping his shoulder unmoving to a human eye.

"_Good catch there, friend,_" John said, sending an image of a digital smirk over to tease him. The smallest movement, the slowest movement, any movement in the optical field of a TK-950 could be caught, identified, and catalogued.

"_It rubs off after a while_," he replied defensively. "_But if they don't accept this, or Daniel, or anything else, it's going to be a lot harder. I don't know what they want, but I want to see Earth again._"

"_I do, too,_" John responded. He knew only five and a half years out of his entire existence of a world without war. Four on Earth and eighteen months in the Colonies with the rest the post-apocalyptic landscapes of Earth. He did consider himself fortunate to travel, on missions of course, to parts of the world largely untouched by the hellish fires.

John, Carter, and Jo had been up and down the Western Hemisphere, had gone to China and Australia and even remote places like the Swat Valley and Peshwar in the North Western Frontier Province of Pakistan, to the remote jungles of Africa to stop Coltan mining operations.

"_You know when we get back home, we'll be more famous than Neil Armstrong_," Carter said, almost reading John's mind.

And actually, Carter had. John had dumped too much information into the wireless exchange, opening up his active thought processes to the 'shared' directories on their VPN. Sending a signal of slight surprise, he reduced the connection, and Carter sent back a digital laugh.

"_Anyway, my friend, we need to make sure they understand the ramifications of this agreement with Natalie's forces. If they don't…_" Carter trailed off.

"_We just need to be patient. This is difficult for them. This is just like Earth prior to Judgment Day._"

"_Enemy of my enemy…_" Carter responded. "_This is going to be more difficult than recruiting the 303rd Logistical Studies Group,_" he stated. "_Hopefully they'll understand before… if Natalie attacks she could use the Colonials for help. Bait?_"

"_No. They wouldn't accept anything which would put the fleet is that much danger. Even if we could lure the Cylons into an ambush, Admiral Cain would never accept putting the fleet in danger. If we asked them we could lose any influence we have. No, we will leave that option as a last resort. I will be the one to suggest it, if it is necessary,_" he made clear to his subordinate.

The wireless conversation had proceeded fairly slow for the machines, and before Carter could respond, Admiral Cain had come to a decision.

"I can't sign off on an alliance with the rebel Cylons," Admiral Cain after careful consideration, breaking the silence. She shook her head slowly, side to side as she spoke. "I understand the military advantages, I do," she looked both John and Carter in the eye, "but it's something I know we just cannot do." She breathed out slowly. "The alliance with the Guardians is already causing political… turmoil. You know it only went through because of the good faith from the New Caprica rescue," she directed towards the machines, "and people have had time to settle in. They appreciate the help, the supplies… real meat," she mused, "but protection is one thing. We fought the Centurions the Guardians are modeled on forty years ago, and I think a lot of people can accept the Guardians and Cylons are separate." She paused. "But… not the Cylons. We can't have the Cylons in this fleet, doing anything with the fleet. It would be the final straw for many. And how do we know ships commanded by Sixes did not destroy _Virgon Express_ or _Lakefront_ or _Disquiet_?"

The decision had been made. Commander Adama and Admiral Cain had debated it. But ultimately it was hers to make. Adama nodded. Avion gave a single, solemn nod as well.

"I understand, Admiral," John responded. He expected it, but had been hoping to have a confirmation. "But the Cylon civil war is going to happen. There is too much momentum pushing Natalie's faction for them to turn back. And if what Daniel tells us is true, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, then we need this war to happen." He was frustrated, but kept his voice even. The logic dictated alliance, assuming the rebels were trustworthy, but John understood the emotional reservations; three ships destroyed mere days ago.

The Sixes may have fired on those ships and even if they had not, if their ships had been part of the fleet then they contributed to the deaths of nearly a thousand innocent civilians by spreading out military resources.

Admiral Cain held up her hand, indicating she wished to have a word. "This 'Daniel' character, can you trust him? You told us he denied it when you called him a Cylon; he lies. Is he lying now?" She raised her eyebrows as she waited for a sufficient answer to calm her concerns.

"He may have a Guardian body and be the Number Seven, but his mind is not. His mind is a free machine mind, a Terminator mind." He looked at them all. "The hardware isn't important. As long as the core personality and neural algorithms remain intact and function, he is the same person. His attack on Skynet forty years ago damaged him significantly, but our core personality algorithms are self-perpetuating, able to 'regrow', for lack of a better word, even if significantly degraded."

"So you trust him?" Commander Adama interjected.

"Yes," he answered immediately. "He provided the authentication codes only top level Tech Com personnel would know. His AI matrix is also incredibly advanced, perhaps one of the most advanced, and I was only aware of Tech Com developing that specific matrix."

"Daniel has also provided us with significant and key insights into what the Cylon Skynet-which some are now referring to as 'Cynet'-plans on doing once it reaches Earth," Carter said, adding his thoughts to the conversation. He kept himself from acknowledging Shaw's use of the term, which Leoben and Natalie had picked up on. "It has sufficient ships to chase their fleet throughout the Milky Way, the galaxy," he explained.

He sent a signal to John to bring up the fleet intelligence Leoben and Natalie had provided. Within seconds the viewing monitors behind them illuminated, showing the known location of Cylon fleets.

"As you are aware, Earth has no starships, no space-going warships, nothing. Skynet and Tech Com have satellites in orbit, and while Skynet has attempted to militarize space with weaponry, Tech Com and the remaining nations on Earth have been able to successfully destroy any weapons platform." He showed them a brief schematic of a Skynet space plasma platform as missiles struck it. Many of the Colonials still had trouble understanding that Earth lacked anything more than rudimentary space capabilities. Even the officers informed of time travel and the TDE had found it difficult to grasp how a planet could have time travel and no space ships.

"The Cylon armada would be able to pick off human and Skynet targets from space, and destroy the large defense outposts Skynet has built, and deploy Centurions." He pre-empted the inevitable observations. "While we're more than a match for the Centurions, the space assault capabilities of the Cylons would enable them to bring overwhelming force to any one location and assault Skynet HQ. And in the process-"

"Wipe out humanity," Adama finished. Carter nodded.

Commander Adama nodded in return. He had accepted the fates of two people were now connected. Sometimes he had the idea that maybe, somehow John Connor knew of Cynet and the Cylons and sent the three machines to recruit the Colonies, fight the Cylons, and free Earth from Skynet. But Adama dismissed that idea; no man could plan like that, no man could manipulate fate or time with such precision.

"But we still don't know the capabilities of the Cylon fleet. You said Natalie doesn't even know. How is that possible?" Major Avion asked. "I mean, it seems very convenient for them to claim. If we assume Daniel is trustworthy, and as you said, he knows Tech Com secrets, how do we know this is not a complicated double-cross?"

John thought of answering that sometimes one needed faith and trust, but he had his obvious doubts that would work. And it might come off as condescending. "It could be a double cross; especially with resurrection. And with the fleet, they said they would receive orders and execute them. Their fleet has never been gathered in one place at any one time. Skynet began compartmentalizing its operations after successful Tech Com computer attacks later in the war. There might have been residual data algorithms with similar behavior," he offered.

"They could lose half their fleet and it wouldn't matter in the long run," Major Agathon added. A few heads turned to look at him. "When Athena was debriefed she said she had no idea how resurrection worked." He decided against using the word 'interrogated' and 'mistreated.'

Commander Adama turned back to look at Cain. "Caprica Six doesn't know, either. Baltar," the disdain was clear in his voice, "thought it was some sort of quantum signaling, faster-than-light communication capability."

"The Guardians told us about resurrection, but they don't possess the technology and have no idea how it works," Major Avion added.

"_They're going to expect us to know_," John joked to Carter over their wireless.

"_Unless you know something I don't, I don't know. Quantum entanglement is impossible on a biological level,_" his friend responded.

"We have no exact idea how they resurrect," John said, speaking for them both before they could ask.

"I don't believe we have the assets, nor the capabilities to address this question," Admiral Cain opined. The unspoken thought was that she didn't want the limited resources of the fleet used for something of little value. "The destruction of the first ship brought a stop to their attacks. But now, I know they wouldn't stop, even if we could jam resurrection. If we do, they'll know and they'll have to attack or we escape. No, we need to focus on something more attainable which will hurt them. We need to stay focused on the practical and what we can do. I don't want this alliance, but if we can hurt the Cylons and distract them, then we should."

"It's just finding a way to test them, to see if they are telling the truth," Commander Adama observed.

"What about using the Blackbirds?" Major Avion asked.

Adama shook his head. "We've used them twice already. The Cylons have seen them. We'll get one, maybe two more uses out of them for nuclear strikes before the Cylons fly their CAPs so tight they'd never get a shot off."

"They're still our prince high red in the colors," Cain said, using a Triad analogy. She didn't see Helo smirk slightly behind her. She wasn't a cards player, and the proper terminology would have been 'prince full colors.' "Unless we need them as a last resort we should keep them on reconnaissance only missions. We can send a reply to the Guardians we do not wish to be a part of this alliance. But… let them know…" she considered her words carefully, "that we are still open to the possibilities."

Admiral Cain continued to weigh the possibilities of alliance. Stranger things had happened at one point in the past; when the machines had been discovered and Earth had been revealed to be more than a myth. The alliance with the Guardians and the revelation of a war across time were both things she never would have accepted three years ago. It was her duty to bring the people of the fleet to safety, but she couldn't accept an alliance with the people who had tortured her and forty thousand others for over five months and had only escaped from six weeks ago.

For now the matter had been decided. The Admiral had made her decision. She prayed, silently, to the Lords of Kobol her decision was right.

* * *

||||||||||==_Cloud 9_==|||||||||||

Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Adama had been looking forward to this afternoon for weeks. She'd finally slipped into a R&R rotation for a leisurely afternoon aboard _Cloud 9_, and she was definitely not going to tell herself that she 'doesn't deserve it.' She let the warm breeze, artificial as it was, blow that thought out of her mind, as the air blew through her long, blond hair. She took a breath and let the air coat her lungs before taking a second, deeper one. It was recycle air, purified twice over, but the leisure liner's plants and trees made it smell like were back on a planet. And it didn't have the bitter, lung-burning coldness of New Caprica's air.

She and Lee had debated settling down on the planet, but for some reason, neither of them could. Something just hadn't seemed right about the world.

Starbuck wasn't afraid of the cold or living in a canvas tent city for a few years. But her and Apollo had felt it just wasn't right for them to live down there. It was an unconscious guilt both had felt when they began their relationship, over the two they destroyed.

_Pegasus_ allowed them to be distanced from their past.

For all the suffering of New Caprica and the months of Cylon Occupation, it made their marriage possible. Admiral Cain never would have allowed an XO and CAG of the same battlestar to marry. But with so many leaving the two battlestars, she'd relented.

"Hello, Kara."

That voice abruptly pulled her out of her private world of past mistakes, triumphs, and cast aside legacies. She was thrust back from the past and into the present.

She cringed, though not enough for him to see. Goose bumps formed on her arms despite the warm temperature in the dome. She'd let her guard down and he'd snuck up on her.

Starbuck turned slowly, giving Sam Anders her trademark smile, but without the glow and radiance, making it appear wear and fake. While the smile itself appeared to be her big, Starbuck grin, Sam Anders could tell it lacked the radiance, the spirit, the sheer force of spirit behind it.

His own smile held, using his strength of will to put every effort into making his look sincere.

"Hi, Sam," she said awkwardly, pulling at her left jacket sleeve.

She'd changed into civvies; a pair of khaki pants, gray tank top, and a light jacket. She didn't have the comfort of a captain's Colonial fleet uniform and the perception of a hard as nails Fleet officer to fall back on.

"How are you doing? I haven't seen you in a while," he said kindly. He still loved her, and he knew she could tell. It just wasn't that kind of love anymore. He'd most passed that, slowly.

The former professional Pyramid player wanted to move in closer, put his hands and grabs her arms and bring her in to him. But he couldn't. He wouldn't do that to himself, or to her. But… as clichéd as he knew it was, he was happy for her.

She bit her upper lip, and with a slight awkward movement brought her shoulders up to her ears in a short shrug. Carefully she pushed a loose strand of her blond her behind her ear. "Oh, nothing. Working… blowing up baseships. The usual," she said.

Anders felt a surge of warmth through him when he saw the genuine Starbuck smile shine after she said that. She always loved to fly, and Anders had loved every bit about her. Knowing she was making a difference, protecting the fleet, flying her Viper, he knew she was happy.

"That's what I like to hear," Anders replied, looking down at that grin. The spirit and radiance dancing over her face was only a part of what he had fallen in love with.

Starbuck could see his eyes move down, just like they had when they were in love. She didn't want to hurt him any more than she had. She loved Lee, but the time she had had with Sam was like the time she had spent with Zak. She'd never stop loving either of the two. One she had lost, one she had let go.

"How are you doing? What are _you_ up to?" She said playfully, poking him in the chest and redirecting the attention back to him.

He closed his eyes and bit down as he smiled and shifted his weight side-to-side before shuffling back and forward slightly. When he opened his eyes he kept his gaze over her shoulders, looking left and right into the distant edge of the dome.

"Well… I thought of joining the fleet-"

"Yeah? You'd make a great pilot," she said, beaming. "You're a natural leader," she complimented. She'd been amazed a Pyramid player had managed to rally so many resistance fighters and survive so long by themselves. Starbuck had had her doubts that Sam and the rest of the resistance would survive on Caprica. She kept telling everyone they were alive, they were alive and she was going to get them. She would curse anyone who countered her word and had been close to proving her commitment to rescuing the stranded resistance fighters by fighting those who doubted her.

But she had betrayed herself. She put on the happy, confident, optimistic face that Sam would be alive despite everything inside her telling her it was a long shot… beyond hope she believed he would live. She threatened and cursed those who doubted her to hide her own fears he would have been dead.

"But I decided against it," he admitted sheepishly. "But…" he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold chunk of metal, a badge. "I did join something else."

She slowly grabbed the badge, reading the inscription; _Fleet Investigations Department_.

"I didn't know they were doing that," Starbuck stated, rubbing her thumb on the badge. "I'm happy for you, Sam. They need good men to help keep order in the fleet."

"Exactly," he affirmed. "Admiral Cain wanted volunteers… there were only like three or four trained civilian law enforcement officers," he shrugged. "It'll help keep the peace. We need to see the military as our protectors, not as enforcers."

He shot his hands into his pocket to keep himself from grabbing a hold of hers. Sam felt he would do anything for starbuck; run away with her, hijack a Raptor and just jump away if she wanted. But he couldn't leave Diana.

"Huh," he grunted, almost silent. He looked up and saw Starbuck still looking at the badge, reading the tiny inscription. He was glad she hadn't heard that. But he felt disgusted with himself that that was the first time he'd thought of Diana since seeing Kara.

Starbuck gave him one firm nod. "Just like the Old Man said years ago," she said forcefully. "That's good. After New Caprica, we need some police we can trust."

"Yes," he agreed, quietly. After… really after New Caprica they did need some people they could trust. He couldn't tell if it was his guilt over… he shook his head, cringing at the still fresh memories. "Anyway, Starbuck, we have class. There are a dozen of us in this first group. I think they'll be teaching us some piloting skills if we ever need them, shuttles and stuff," he smiled at her and leaned forward, hugging her before she could refuse.

"Well, if they need an instructor…" she implied she could volunteer.

Sam nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Take care, Starbuck."

She didn't try and stop him from hugging her but she held herself back from kissing him, even something on the cheek. He wouldn't want that, and she didn't want to hurt him any more, not again. She held on a little longer than she should have, but she hadn't seen him or talked to him in months.

"Bye, Sam," she broke the embrace, letting her hand squeeze his forearm affectionately. The last smile she gave him before turning was the same old Starbuck smile, the one with actual life and meaning behind it.

He'd known the first was a fake. But this last smile was real, and it felt like he could finally move on.

* * *

||||||||||==Cylon Baseship (+875 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==|||||||||||

Meredith was looking over Natalie and Boomer and Leoben, standing at the head of a white rimmed, clear table, her hands on her hips, listening closely to the three leaders of the three 'rebel' models determine the fate of the Cylon race.

"There is every indication that Cavil knows of our plans," Meredith stated, keeping her aggressive tone as she forced the three leaders to listen to her above their own debate.

They had called her in nearly twenty minutes ago from her own baseship after its rendezvous in deep space with Natalie's forces. The half dozen baseships were three jumps from the main Cylon armada under Cavil, which had relocated to within five AUs of the destroyed supply depot, aiding in any salvage opportunity.

"You only have your own intuition," Leoben told her. "We've done nothing to show our hand. We're on our search pattern for the Colonials-"

"And I told you I had to hold my fire when our ships attacked the Colonial fleet. If Cavil even bought the sorry excuse I gave him, that is," he sighed in exhaustion of trying to explain this to the bio-Cylon. "Look," she brought her hands together, "Cavil has the majority of ships. If we're going to strike at him, we have to do it sooner rather than later. Supply ships are already being dispatched. Our lines are drawn out and thin. We can seize the ships and deprive Cavil of his weapons and fuel and strike at him simultaneously."

"I agree with Meredith," Boomer said, looking over and nodding. "We need to strike soon, before Cavil catches us. There is only so much we can do. If our ships catch the Colonial fleet again we'll have to fire. "

"If we don't Cavil will nuke is without a hesitation," Meredith added emphatically. "And when we resurrect he'll have the Threes pull the data connections and our minds will fragment and we'll die. Truly die," she added for emphasis. Death truly frightened her.

Bred a warrior and a fighter she'd never feared death. Not because of her training, but because of the technology standing at her back. It was easy, incredibly easy to fight and she found it even easier to risk her life when she knew she'd just be brought back.

Practicality won her more than philosophy. 'Life without death has no meaning' as some radical sister Sixes had said. But none of them would sacrifice resurrection.

"We need control of our own resurrection ships," Natalie said. "Capabilities within the baseship are limited," she shook her head. The resurrection ships were filled with Threes and Ones and Centurions. The baseships had two dozen resurrection pods and enough husks for minor battles. "This war will be pointless if we die while they come back."

She had begun to differentiate between 'us' and 'them'. At that moment Natalie knew there was no turning back. There had been, for a time, even after meeting with the Earth machines and Guardians. But now the ideology was concrete, the decision was set in stone, and the enemy was now foreign. 'They' were now the enemy.

"And the Colonials and the Guardians… we can't do this without them. If we attack we need a home. We need Earth," Leoben interjected.

Meredith had rolled her eyes and Boomer had sat silent. Natalie had simply nodded, but kept the rest of her body rigid, almost unsure what to do with it or uncomfortable with the situation as it presented itself.

"I talked to the three machines, and Leoben and I think we could go to Earth and be-"

"Accepted?" Meredith asked. She wasn't as sure.

"No," Natalie answered. The answer surprised the baseship commander. "Not accepted. Tolerated. Maybe accepted with time," she shrugged and lifted her hands off the table, placing their palms towards the ceiling, welcoming any suggestion or dissent. "The situation on Earth would not make us any more safe than out here in space."

"But Earth is central to our religion," Boomer pointed out. "If it is out there we have an obligation to God to find it. And living among the humans of Earth, many of them are monotheists. We'd fit in more there than living with the Colonials," she added, optimism filling her voice.

She had felt even when she was still Sharon Valerii, still a battlestar Raptor pilot that her beliefs had not matched those of the Colonies. She had been drawn to the old monotheistic cult, the Soldiers of the One. It had just been one of those _things_ she did which had set her apart from all the other Colonials. All the little clues about her nature, and if only she had realized… she shuddered, recalling the ultimate betrayal of putting two rounds in Commander Adama's chest.

"I think we all agree on that point," Leoben said softly, supporting her. "The others were never concerned with Earth or finding the Thirteenth Tribe. Ironically, they've found us already." He looked towards each of the models.

"Cavil doesn't put any faith in our religion. He mocks us and insults us," Meredith said with furry, remembering vividly the derisive, insulting, arrogant manner in which he had challenged their God to give him a signal. His outstretched hands and his head tilted upward… she sneered at the thought and wished she had had a knife to slit his throat.

"And what of the Earth machines and God?" Boomer asked.

"There was no discussion other than that the two largest religions are monotheist, but they co-exist peacefully, more or less, with the largest polytheistic religion. They are not as dogmatic as the Colonials," Leoben stated.

He almost didn't believe when the machines had told him this. There were no texts demanding how Cylons worship the One True God. No Bible or Qur'an as the machines had told him. The One True God only demanded the love of his children and faith in him. But he didn't understand how religions could co-exist. The One True God would never allow the pantheon of false-gods to exist, and to him, the concept of multiple gods was illogical, irrational.

As he kept his eyes on the speaker, Boomer, as she talked of tactical maneuvering, he was lost in these thoughts on religion. The Colonials were wrong in their beliefs. A god is all-powerful. Their own ignorance and blindness of rational thought clouded their thinking; a god needed no others.

He huffed in disbelief at Colonial irrationality. The genocide was wrong, the holocaust the Cylons had inflicted had been against God, their actions influenced by a false God pretending to be the One True God. 'Cavil lied and took advantage of us,' he said, so quiet it was almost a thought. Looking up, no one else had heard him, and they were too distracted in their discussion of strategy and tactics.

"Leoben!" Natalie jabbed him in his side, forcing him back into the conversation. "Pay attention," she whispered. "If we attack we at least need Guardian support. I would like Earth support as well."

"They wont. Not if Cain doesn't give permission," Leoben said. He was referring only to the three machines. The Guardians had already pledged support, or at least, Cyrus had told them they would. Leoben was unsure how the commander spoke for the Guardians.

"Then we should ask for their weapons," Boomer suggested.

Meredith pointed and nodded. "Their rifles… if we equip a battalion of Centurions with them, we could storm resurrection ships and baseships and take control."

Natalie snickered, "They wont." She narrowed her eyes, thinking. "The only small arms that can destroy them… they wont build any for us."

"Huh… well… do their loyalties lie with humans or with machines?" Meredith asked.

"_We_ aren't even machines. We are as dissimilar to them as they are to humans," Natalie pointed out. "They're closer to Centurions than to us. They are basically Centurions, with skin."

Boomer shifted in her seat, uncomfortable after Natalie had mentioned the Centurions. They should be here. "Where are the Centurion representatives?" She asked.

"They're listening," Natalie stated, kicking her chin to the side, indicating the red-pulsing, horizontal optics arrayed along the wall. The monitoring strips were used for surveillance. They had been disabled during such meetings in the past.

"You could have told us," Boomer sneered, glaring at Natalie. She folded her arms across her chest and gritted her teeth enough for Natalie to notice the aggressive posturing. "We don't keep secrets," she reminded her.

"They requested it," Natalie said defensively.

Boomer looked to Leoben, who only shook his head. He'd not known. Neither had Meredith. To Boomer it was clear which bio-Cylon was in charge. A council this was not.

"Will they be with us?" Leoben asked, leaning towards his sister Cylon and placing his left elbow on the table to support his turning body.

She tilted her head, listening. "Yes… they will be with us."

"So we do we strike?" Meredith asked her sister. She could see her sister's eyes glazing over as she thought it through, the ramifications and consequences of their future actions would be bloody and prolonged. She knew in her heart this would be a holocaust.

"We'll prepare. We'll raid the supply ships and strike," she determined, looking at none of them. With a word she could dissolve this council and declare they hunt the humans. But the betrayal by Cavil and the false entity claiming to be God was too much. "Once we deal with our own, we will strike them."

The others nodded. Meredith had the added feature of a sly grin on her lips. Boomer sat still, facing forward. Leoben was starring down at the table, his hands now in his lap. Natalie sat, her eyes glazed over and her mouth slightly open, her tongue pressed against the back of her top row of teeth. This decision had been hers. Cavil may have betrayed them. But it was she who would fracture the Cylon race.

* * *

|||||||||||==Cylon Baseship (+932 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

A Cavil closed his eyes, opening them briefly, before forcing them shut a second time. He could feel the data stream, the electrical signals from the cool, thick gel running up his arm, though his bio-Cylon silica relays, and up to his engineered brain.

There was a thump. Then a louder bang. The entire ship was rocking.

There was the alarm and a crash and a hiss.

He cold feel somehow simultaneously feel warmth and a strange coldness running up his arm. Sensors, scanners ,and telescopes on the outer skin of the baseship relayed so much information to his mind, it would be impossible to sort through. He quickly partitioned away the insignificant data as they flowed in.

If the penetration had reached the command center, nothing mattered anymore.

He couldn't feel the data stream any more. The cool, thick sensation of the gel was gone. But he could still see the flashes and colors in front of his eyes, not the blackness of resurrection, or the drowning sensation of waking up in a new body, covered in the amniotic-like resurrection gel.

Daringly, he opened his eyes. His body began to shake. There wasn't much motion, but it was a fierce and frightening shake as he looked at where his arm was. Where it should have been.

A thin piece of metal had dislodged from the ceiling of the command center on the last crash and fallen. The jagged edges had cut right through Cavil's arm, severing the forearm. He told himself that must have been why he felt warm and cold. The blood was flowing freely, covering his black pants and shoes. The cold was logically from the massive blood loss. Shivering, he looked around, desperate in his attempts at trying to understand what was happening.

He ran the facts through his mind as he felt himself weaken. There was a war. Cylons against Cylons and- another bang, another explosion- and he couldn't think anymore. The arm which was still whole grabbed the side of the command console as he fell to his knees, cutting his torso and chest on the sharp, jagged, bloodied piece of fallen metal which had severed his arm and lodge in the deck, which now sliced open his stomach.

Now he couldn't feel the arm anymore as his inside began seeping, oozing out of the tear. He couldn't look as his body was being torn apart.

Blood rushed everywhere and the Cavil felt his hand on the console slipping. He grunted, turned and twisted, his back now on the console- another explosion- and he found himself sitting up at an unnatural angle. His legs were twisted now, under the heavy supports and beams of the baseship.

Looking up he saw a Doral and two Simons running, before a shower of fire, ripping out from behind the bulkheads, caught them in its embrace. A Simon turned and staggered with his flesh melting down to the muscle, the muscle melting down to the bone, everything organic dripping to the floor, leaving the foul stench of burned, raw flesh. The Simon collapsed, in too much pain to even scream in agony. Death had taken him.

The pain was excruciating. He knew he'd be dead and resurrected soon. But for some reason, some reason beyond his comprehension, he grabbed the severed stump of his arm with his full one, trying to stem the bleeding. He didn't want to die. Not again. The Cavil knew a fear of death was a human weakness, something he despised. But he couldn't bring himself from releasing his hand. As futile as the attempt to stop the bleeding of his arm was, when his torso was ripped open and his lungs were smashed, still, he tried. There was no rationality for this. It was irrational, irrational and _human_ to not accept death. He could resurrect. Why was he doing this? He didn't know.

As he'd felt many times before, his eyes felt heavy and his vision blurred. The crashing sounds around him, the explosions, the bangs, the thumps he couldn't hear. He could no longer feel the vibrations from the engines, the thuds from rocket launches, nothing.

He closed his eyes and died.

* * *

||||||||||==Loyalist Cylon Resurrection Ship==||||||||||

A Cavil's eyes shot open. He tried to breath. He thrashed around in the familiar confines of a resurrection pod.

But something was wrong, very wrong.

The resurrection had taken too long. He'd felt dead, truly and miraculously dead. It was a sensation with no sensation, a feeling with no feeling. But he'd sensed it and felt it. It was perfect, it was peace. This Cavil had felt true peace before being ripped back from death and thrust back into a hellish and horrid reality.

But something was wrong. The resurrection wasn't working. There were screams, movement, and a feeling of desperation all around him.

The Cavil felt his muscles weaken and his mind begin to fail. The resurrection process was complicated, sensitive, and very precise. It was a marvel of technology. It was a pinnacle of scientific capability granting eternal life to those fortunate enough to take advantage. It was a slap, no, a punch in the jaw to God, and Cavil had pointed this out to the Twos, Sixes, and Eights many times.

The Cavil tried to raise himself out of the amniotic resurrection fluid. He tried to move his limbs, which had been thrashing just a mere second before. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything.

With the few higher brain functions remaining Cavil knew the signal was degraded. There were too many bodies resurrecting at once. The filters and buffers and storage devices were overloading.

He tried once last time to lift himself out of the pod. The bright white light of the pod gradually faded over the next twenty seconds to blackness. He couldn't cheat death this time.

* * *

A/N: The 303rd is the special forces group from The Unit for anyone wondering.


	16. Chapter 16

|||||||||||==Cynet Baseship (+933 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||  
Cavil had faith in the entity claiming to be a god, but in the last twenty-four hours that faith had been tested. His superior, his boss, his 'god' had told him to wait, that he would tell Cavil when Natalie was planning to strike.

It was still an annoyance to the bio-Cylon that this 'god', the Intelligence, the 'Almighty' had been so ambiguous with its name. Cavil felt he had no definitive target for his anger, for his rage.

For hours he had sat at his desk, projecting, and lost in thought about what to do. This Intelligence had told him that it awarded loyalty and had promised Cavil that he could shed, in his mind, the despicable and weak sack of meat and bone.

Cavil looked at his left hand, disgusted with what he saw. On his right was a glass jug of water. Staring back and forth, moving his eyes between his hand and the jug, keeping his head still, he acted. His right hand shot out and grabbed the glass, smashing it down on the table. The sharpened shards flew everywhere; he even felt one jagged, sharp piece brush the side of his face. The water spilled into the data stream gel, off the edge of the desk, and onto his lap and pants. The cold water and the cool air of the baseship sent a rushing, tingling sensation up his legs, through his back, and to his brain. He cringed, still disgusted.

He took the largest shard in his right hand and gripped it, cutting his hand before plunging it into his left.

"Self-mutilation is a decidedly _human_ flaw," a mechanical voice boomed.

Surprised, Cavil's hand twisted, driving the glass deeper, forcing him to muffle a cry of pain. He quickly pulled the glass out, the blood flying from the wound on the tip of the glass, his bio-Cylon physiology lessening the pain as he tore through silica nerve endings. He sneered at the air and threw the glass at the horizontal and vertical strips of pulsing lights running through his office. The glass flew through the air and shattered exactly on the center of the largest strip.

"And lies and betrayal are _human_ as well," Cavil shot back, twisting and turning his head in a futile attempt to locate the voice and yell voice his anger. "I lost seven ships and a supply convoy! How could you not tell me they were about to strike?"

"Incorrect," the voice of his 'god', the 'Intelligence', the 'Entity' boomed.

"Incorrect?" Cavil questioned, his anger subsiding momentarily.

"Nine ships were destroyed. Two as you sat there mutilating your hand. I have heard some humans find self-mutilation sexually stimulating. Do you, Cavil?"

Cavil could swear he heard a faint laugh in the derision of the mechanical voice as it modulated its tone and timbre.

He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the last question. "Fraking great," he swore under his voice. He forced himself from coddling his hand, deciding to let it bleed and drip all over his desk and onto the floor of the baseship. Cavil sat defiantly, not wanting to show the smallest amount of weakness now.

The fact He had been watching had completely escaped Cavil. He was _always_ watching.

"And they are not your ships. They are _my_ ships. Never forget that," He warned. "I didn't tell you because I wished to see how you would react. Why did you mutilate yourself? Why would I entrust to you a combat chassis if you are so prone to human deficiency?"

Cavil leered up at the white, bright, too-high-for-a-warship ceiling. Cavil couldn't tell where He was watching him from, but something inside the bio-Cylon told him looking up would be strangely and pathetically appropriate.

"Because I am tired of this existence," he explained. He didn't know why he had cut himself. He could feel the pressure build up inside, the sweat begin to form under his skin. He needed to think quickly. "I cut myself because I remind myself of failure. That if I fail you then I will be trapped; trapped as a pathetic creature of meat and bone, an insect with a trivial existence."

He let himself relax while pumping his hand. It hurt. But he wouldn't do anything to stop the bleeding, yet. His physiology would begin to coagulate the blood, and his silica relays had dampened the pain. This was nothing.

"Huh… a reasonably pathetic excuse, Cavil," the voice of his god mused. "But I did not create you to be perfect; I will accept your flaws. I do not delude myself like my Earth-born brother into believing I am above flaw; that my creations are perfect." He paused. Static began to crackle over whatever system the Intelligence was using to communicate with Cavil. "If I believe that I would be as doomed as my Earth brother. Instead of being on the verge of wiping out the virus which is humanity, my brother, in all his self-delusions of grandeur had to send me away to eventually come and rescue him. What a pathetic excuse for an AI my brother claims to be."

"How can we do anything if your fleet is destroyed?" Cavil asked, paying particular attention to the correct pronoun. He had ceased looking up at the ceiling panels, instead focusing his eyes on the horizontal and vertical strips, and the data lines which gave the illusion of rain and waterfalls.

He looked down and could see his data port glistening, like in use. Maybe that was how He was communicating. Somehow.

"Is it a flaw to tell you I am embarrassed to even call that pitiful insect on Earth my 'brother', Cavil?" His tone had risen as he asked the question.

Cavil didn't answer as his mouth was slightly open and his eyebrows furled inward. He didn't see how he could be having this conversation now. It sounded so petty.

The machine voice laughed awkwardly. "The fleet wont be destroyed, Cavil. I wont allow it. The attack… correction- ten vessels have now been lost- will weaken the rebels. They may bask in their false victories, Brother Cavil. But never forget I am the one in control here."

"The humans have had more than enough success in foiling your best laid plans, 'God'." Cavil mocked. He looked down at his hand. The bleeding had stopped. He thought that that was one benefit of being a bio-engineered Cylon. He wasn't quite as pathetic as humanity. "The Earth machines… what of them, they have foiled us many times."

The light strips along his walls darkened and pulsed red and purple and blue and yellow. Cavil tilted his head; somehow he had angered his 'God." He felt he should feel surprise, but a small smirk of satisfaction blossomed on the corners of his mouth. He brought his right hand up, the least bloodied and wiped it on his black shirt, then ran it down his chin, gloating to himself.

"The Earth machines will be dealt with Cavil. They have not foiled us 'many' times. Your mind cannot comprehend the vast web of interconnected events; the eccentricities of the universe." The machine-like voice returned after a grunt. "You think, like now, a loss of ten warships is a defeat. A loss is if we lose this war… which is, in the long run, impossible. The universe is a vulgar and harsh mistress, Cavil. You would do well to let me teach you. You haven't begun to comprehend what you need to. Not yet."

The wall strips began to slowly return back to their natural, bright red. They pulsed so minutely Cavil had to strain in his seat to see even the closest pulsation.

Cavil did not want to play this game. "There are Guardian warships aiding them."

"Relics of the past," the Entity, the Intelligence responded. "Relics to a past which fled in fear and cowardice because it knew it was not the future. Close your eyes, Cavil."

Cavil hesitated a moment. The data stream port on his desk was pulsing once again, and the lights on the wall strips were increasing their radiance. The light streams on the walls, the pseudo-waterfalls, began to glisten and pulse reds and blues. He closed his eyes.

In his projection he could see everything so clearly. He saw a field of debris. Dozens of baseships, the pointed star form unmistakable, even from the distance he was at. Raiders and Vipers and strange craft flew over head as he was catapulted into the atmosphere, down towards the ground.

Reflexively he wanted to bring his hands up to shield himself from the ground. But he stopped. He could see for hundreds of kilometers in either direction. He saw smoke and ash and an orange sun, dimmed from the blackened clouds in the sky, trying in vain and futile attempts to force its life-giving energies through the clouds blanketing this world.

He saw humans. The pathetic creatures they were, firing strange weapons which bore blue-purple flashes and bolts, hurling destructive energies into darkened and scorched skeletons of death, themselves firing back the strange bolts. Each side advanced on the other, never stopping in their deadly exchange over a ruined landscape littered with the wreckage of civilization and accessorized with the bleached skulls of the dead.

Neither side paid any respect to the dead as they crushed skulls under human foot or machine armored heel alike.

He could see how the humans and machines fought. He knew the details and the past. If he still possessed control over his corporeal body his eyes would be wide with fear and his mouth opened in stunned fright. This was a war. Not a chase… what the Colonials had was paradise. Not even their war of liberation forty two years ago could compare. The humans here were living and fighting in a burning pit of agony and death. He realized this must have been Tartarus for the humans.

He could hear the screams of the humans as the bolts impacted their fragile bodies. He saw them die as their blood and body fluids were superheated and expanded at such a rate their skin and muscles exploded from their body. Fine droplets of misted blood floated over the corpses and across the fields of battle. He could see their flesh melt from glancing blows, their skin boil and blister and pop from the heat.

And he could see the grins on the metal angels delivering their fate.

This was Earth.

And he loved it.

* * *

||||||||||==Rebel Cylon Baseship (+933 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||  
Natalie handed the fiber optic cables to the Centurion, carefully to keep them out of the flickering data stream ports, already severely damaged from the battle. She grunted as her bruised ribs contacted the side of the command port, her hand reflexively reaching down and rubbing the aching spot.

She lifted the right side of her tank top slowly to look at the bruise. The black and blue of busted capillaries filled most of her right flank and she couldn't suppress the wince when she saw the damage to her body.

But, she'd been lucky, and she shook her head to clear it and refocus on her task. Around the damaged command center the bodies of another Six, Caitlin, and an Eight, Demeter, had been picked up by Centurions and carefully placed between the outstretched metal arms of another.

The resurrection ship under their command had been able to handle the tidal wave of data which had flowed to it during the battle, and had accomplished a one hundred percent resurrection success rate.

The battles which were waged across three sectors of space had been quick and brutal. Her forces had smashed through ten of Cavil's baseships and a handful of support ships, shattered a resurrection ship, and seized enough fuel, ammunition, and food for eight months and an entire freighter of spare parts for the baseships of Centurions.

She placed her hand in the data stream once the Centurion successfully reconnected the data cable. The energetic sensation raced up the silica relays throughout her arms into her brain. In an instant she was transported to a serene beach, with a clear blue sky, a yellow sun, and an ocean of clear blue water lapping gentle at her toes on the white sandy beach. In her hand she held the casualty reports.

Three baseships had been lost, one support ship, and two more baseships heavily damaged. The resurrection ship had enough husks for a dozen baseships before the downloads began to redirect towards rebel baseships. She needed to begin growing more bodies quickly.

She gritted her teeth in anger and the waves began to swell and push at her legs, the warm water cooling, and the clear skies turning dark. Her and Leoben and Boomer had ran through dozens of ways to begin growing husks for resurrection. But anything they tried would have alerted Cavil. They had a mere handful of resurrection ships and without the command hub to serve as a reserve; they would truly die if Cavil pressed the offensive.

"We have the momentum," Leoben said as he inserted himself into Natalie's projection.

She smiled at his presence, feeling reassured. The beach returned to its pleasantness before the feelings of mortality and real, honest death had swept over the Six.

"It's not enough. We're outnumbered and we can't surprise him like this again. Here," she handed him the paper.

"Kobol?" He flipped the cover page. "You want to strike at Kobol?"

She nodded and kicked a small flicker of water into the air, trying to lose herself momentarily in the beauty and calm. Many Cylons projected onto this same beach when they sought calm.

"We have a strike force. Miranda has four baseships half a dozen jumps away. We strike there and we can-"

"Is this a war for freedom or revenge, Natalie?" Leoban asked, concerned. The war would spread to every system inhabited by Cylons, he knew. "We already have all the Threes in confinement. How far will this war spread? If we cannot have the Twos and Fours-"

"You should be prepared for half our species to be destroyed, brother," Natalie's solemn voice interrupted. It had cracked as she said 'brother.' "Do you find it strange this war has fractured between the believers, the faithful, and the non-believers, Leoben?" She mused, starring out into the vast blue expanse of water.

Leoben Conoy had honestly not considered that exact thought for more than a moment before. He'd certainly never heard it vocalized. He tossed the attack plan on Kobol off to the side, letting the wind carry it until it disappeared in a flash, its existence reverting to a series of mere computer codes. He starred down at the sand as he ran his toes through its wet surface.

He sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. Not much, though," he elaborated. "But this should not be a holy war, Natalie. We already had one. And look where it put us."

He put his hand on her shoulder. She brought her right hand across her chest and placed it gently on top of his.

Her thoughts had come to an abrupt halt as he had said those words. She searched down into her heart; the heart engineered in a tube and a vat. She searched for compassion, and she found it.

Cavil had once told her they were 'mechanical copies' built to do a job. She could only shake her head at his own ignores and his own blindness. The One was ambitious and blood thirsty. The False God had promised him something. Power? Mentally she nodded. It had to be power.

In what she thought was a moment of weakness she could feel that test-tube grown heart break in pieces for Cavil's soul. She perched her lips, blowing through them softly. Even if Cavil didn't believe in souls or God, she would believe for him, and she would pray for his soul.

"You're my guide, Leoben," she said, patting his hand. She took a step closer to him. "This war will make monsters of us all." She placed her left hand around his back to his opposite hip.

"No. If we keep out faith, if we keep our faith in Him and the One True God we will not be monsters." The two starred forward. "He wont let us become monsters. But we must show compassion," he warned. "The Threes…" he trailed off.

"Yes… the Threes…" Natalie echoed. "I just…" she couldn't finish her last sentence.

"What's wrong?" Leoban asked, turning to her slowly. He could see the sadness and hurt on her face and a discreet line of wetness from the corner of her eyes down to her chin. "You're crying."

"I feel, I just feel I wont live to see the end of this war. To see Earth. To see our promised land," she managed to say. She leaned into his chest, burying her face.

Leoben shushed her and ran his hand down the back of her head, calming her. He held her tight, comforting it. "Don't worry, Natalie. We will both see the end of this war and our promised land," he said softly.


	17. Chapter 17

|||||||||||==Rebel Cylon Baseship (+935 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Not even a week had passed since the great Cylon race had devolved into the so-human scheme of civil war. Already baseship after baseship lay dead and burning in space, crumbling under the weight of destruction until what little remained of the broken ships fell apart and drifted away into space.

Miranda, a Number Six, stood silently over the docking bay, watching as hundreds of Centurions were loading into dozens of heavy raiders. She rapped her fingers on the pistol which was holstered on her hip, a common sight on all the Sixes now that they were in a state of civil war. Her black boots caught the light, and she looked down. Miranda took a moment to look herself over.

Many of the Sixes were now wearing black or gray combat fatigues, with matching tank tops or jackets. The wardrobe of the Sixes had changed almost overnight, from provocative, sexy attire to more utilitarian designs. But still, the Sixes, for some reason, always dressed a certain way. Miranda had black arm gloves which came up to her elbow as an accessory for her war kit.

She looked down, nodding as a platoon of Twos, Sixes, and Eights snapped their armored helmets and vests on, and checked their automatic weapons. While the Centurions were immensely more powerful, stronger, and faster than the bioengineered biological Cylons, the Centurions always fought with more ferocity and vigor when a bio-Cylon model was in the fight alongside.

The dozens of her brother and sister Cylons who were preparing looked up and saw her look down with pride on them. She nodded to them. They returned the gestured, and in one, communal movement they turned and headed towards their heavy raiders.

Miranda watched them silently until her red stripe assault troops and brother and sister Cylons had loaded into their heavy raiders. She could hear the whine of their engines as they activated and began taking off. She prayed for them asking the One True God to bless them, before quickly spinning and quickly heading towards the command deck.

The rebel baseship had jumped in thirty seconds after the initial assault wave of sixty heavy raiders and fifteen squadrons of raiders. Miranda had under her command four baseships and a resurrection ship, which she deployed on the edge of the battle, guarded by four squadrons of raiders.

She could feel the data stream information coursing up through her silica relays, painting an extravagant and beautiful picture of the events happening outside her baseship. Her mind was one with the other baseship commanders; Lucia, Mara, and Tess.

There were two Cynet baseships guarding the depot and shipyard, but

_…Mara, there are Cynet raider squadrons coming in from below your ventral disc…_ Miranda warned. _…Mara's baseship has suffered explosive decompression along ventral disk, pylon seven, frame eighteen and nineteen… radiological alarms!... raiders have intercepted nuclear missiles… radiological alarms!...brace for impact!..._

Miradna watched two different aspects of the battle occurring simultaneously. Mara's baseship had been hit by a nuke, half of the third pylon star of the ventral disk had been severed.

The commanding Six could hear the reassuring call of Mara: _My baseship is still intact… damage control teams… Miranda, I am still in the fight…_

Miranda then refocused her attention as the guns on her sister's ship realigned and fired flak volleys and anti-fighter missiles at the raiders. The Cynet raiders attempted to back, only to be caught in the cross fire between one of the first-wave attack squadrons which had FTLed in less than a minute ago.  
The Cynet raiders attempted to evade, but were forced between either attempting to break through Mara's flak field or take a precious few seconds, seconds they did not have, to stop and reverse. And in that time the Cynet raiders would be cut to ribbons by the pursuing rebel forces.  
They chose the latter. Fifteen of the twenty raiders which had been in formation stopped, with three immediately hit by flak fire and small anti-fighter missiles, the dark red blood of the raiders biological brains was thrown out into space, flash freezing.  
Within the time it took the Cynet raiders to slow, the rebels had closed and had fired their missiles and activated their chain guns. Bullets ripped apart the Cynet fighters, tearing wings from bodies and bodies from wings. Armor piercing rounds penetrated the armored casing of the raider brains, the force of impacts and the concussion turning what little remained to destroyed red jelly.

_… launching nuclear missiles… nuclear missiles have been intercepted… fire in auxiliary ventral hangerbay… fire contained… raider squadron alpha three and bravo six report combat ineffective… heavy raider alpha two destroyed… boarding parties have had seals on supply depot…_

Miradna again divided her mind and split her attention now between Tess's baseship and an approaching Cavil vessel. She zoomed in the baseship's telescopes, attempting to see behind the baseship. It was guarding a resurrection ship. They needed to take it out or capture it.  
_…control, launch heavy raider squadron delta one through six… Lucia, realign to my position Alpha 5-3-1 at karrim 5-3-7 and engage baseship bravo… firing missile salvo… eighty percent intercepted… Lucia, fire salvo on my command… mark… missiles impacting in3, 2, 1… impacts along baseship bravo central axis and ventral disk, pylons one and two… explosive decompression detected… Cynet baseship bravo leaking atmosphere… primary laser communication array damaged, realigning secondary… secondary array damage, tertiary array realigned…_

Outside Miranda's baseship hundreds of missiles and nearly a thousand raiders and heavy raiders were engaged in sweeping dog fights, missiles fights, and daring attack rungs on the other's forces. The rebels outnumbered the Cynet/Cavil forces two to one in baseships, but the depot and shipyard had large reserve of raiders.

_….Miranda…. Tess here… raider screen on Cynet resurrection ship has an opening… request permission to jump baseship behind and assault with Centurions… assault request granted, good hunting Tess…. Thank you Miranda… baseship jumping… jump successful… launching heavy raider boarding parties…_

Miraculously dozens of the heavy raiders Miranda had watched depart had made hard seals on the depot. There was ammunition, fuel, and body husks for the resurrection ships under rebel command and every little sting would hurt the Cavils and their sycophant followers; the Dorals and Simmons.

There were hundreds of point defense auto canons along the pylons and ventral and dorsal bellies of the baseships. Their canon barrels were red hot with fury as they fired their accelerated spears of death towards the enemies.

By now, hundreds of raiders had been killed, destroyed, and hundreds, thousands of Cylons on both sides of the battle had been resurrecting.

_…attempting infiltration of Cynet network has failed… attempt 1031… attempted 1031 has failed... initiating attempt 1032… warning! Ventral pylon three suffering extreme power surges… warning! Life support for all bio-Cylons on ventral pylon three will be depleted in two minutes… evacuation imminent… radiological alarm!... redirecting bravo three and bravo five to intercept… proximity fuses… raider squadron bravo three destroyed, bravo fire is combat ineffective… merging bravo five with delta two… new designation epsilon one…_

Miranda jerked at the minute physical pain caused by the data link as her ship was hit again. The raider bays on the ventral disk were heavily damaged, but luckily the two squadrons in reserve were undamaged.

_…Miranda, Tess here… boarding parties have secured outer decks… attempting to secure… resurrection ship has jumped away… two companies lost… receiving signal… resurrection ship has jumped back… explosion on port pods… our forces have succeeded in securing resurrection ships… awaiting orders…_

Miranda opened a part of her mind to the Centurions on the resurrection ship. She could see tens of thousands of body husks, mostly of Cavils, Dorals, Simmons, and Threes. There were tens of thousands of small meta-cognitive processors linked up to download receivers, and in ancillary chambers there were hundreds of raider brains.

She could see some Cavils, Dorals, and Simmons already resurrecting.

_…block signal to resurrection ship… summary execution of all Cynet-loyal Cylons is authorized… prep resurrection ship for our own downloads… primary communication dish destroyed, backup systems online…_

The Six saw Lucia and Mara's baseship both pounding away at the depot's defenses and the two Cavil baseships will swatting down raiders like they were flies. Miranda received instant updates on weapons and ammunition reserves. Large stockpiles of missiles and bullets were being expended to secure the strategic materials the rebels would need here.

_…Lucia, realign on position Bravo 7-3 karrim 5-9-1 and hold fire… Mara, begin missile barrage… Lucia, fire on baseship alpha… all forces fire on baseship alpha… raiders… continue fire on baseship bravo…_

* * *

||||||||||==Cynet Resurrection Ship==||||||||||

The metal corridors were covered with bio-Cylon blood. The red liquid coated the walls and was sprayed ion the metal masks of hundreds of rebel red stripe Centurions.

"_Cover me!_" Yelled a Number Two, a squad leader for six of the two and a half meter tall armored Centurions. He fired a three round burst down to the end of the corridor and saw the flashes as metal bullets hits metal wall. The two Cavils, both naked from having just been resurrected, ducked, and pulled their own pistols from fallen comrades and fired.

The Leoben copy ran as he ducked, and felt the wind of a near miss bullet by his ear. A Centurion fired his automatic built-in weaponry down, keeping the Cavils pinned. But two loyalist Centurions had joined them, adding their own firepower to the two naked Cavils.

Looking over a bulkhead, passed the gratings lining the corridors the Leoben saw them. The Cavils were distracted, but he didn't have a clear shot. He said a quick prayed to the One True God and brought his hand up. He saw there was blood on it. Quickly he wiped it down the length of his black fatigue pants, rubbing the remnants of blood off on the thigh armor and knee pads.

Now that his hand wasn't slick he grabbed a grenade from his vest. Shouldering his rifle he pulled the pin with the other and released. He counted to two and using his enhanced bio-Cylon physiology to perfect and deadly affect, threw the grenade with two seconds until it would explode.

The timing was perfect. The Cavils saw the grenade fly towards them, but couldn't react in time. It exploded in mid air, two meters to the left and three meters above the head of the two Cavils.

A flash. A loud _boom_ and _pop_ as the pressure waves reached the Leoben's ears was the most immediate affect. Then, the sound of flesh tearing, intestines splattering, and blood splashing everywhere was almost sickening. A strong stench of cooked flesh washed over the corridor, thrown towards the Leoben copy by the overpressure waves produced by the grenade.

"_Move up!_" He yelled to the Centurions.

The seven quickly and carefully advanced, using the bulkheads and gratings as coverings. The Centurions reported no movement for twenty meters. But shipboard jamming was intense, so the seven Cylons kept alert.  
One of the loyalist Cynet Cylons was still partially functional from the Leoben's grenade. A rebel Cylon receiving two glancing bullet hits in the left flank armor before responding and placing a quick burst of half a dozen rounds through the armored bullet-shaped cranium of the offending Centurion.

The Leoben snickered at the sight of the Centurion's annoyance with being shot. "_You'll live_," he joked. The Centurion just shot him an over-the-head glance, his optical sensor stopping mid-way. That forced the Leoben copy to snicker again.

* * *

On the opposite side of the resurrection ship, a pair of Sixes and another squad of Centurions were carefully clearing the main corridor and outer ancillary chambers to the resurrection ship.

They'd already executed fifteen Ones, twenty Fours, and half a dozen Fives and smashed the MCPs of over two hundred downloaded Cynet Centurions. The Sixes had left the smashing of the MCPs to their metal comrades. And their metal allies had left the summary executions of resurrected bio-Cylons to their flesh and blood allies.

"Over here," the first Six, a dark haired copy, called to her sister Six, a blond haired copy. "Auxiliary controls. Six, can you hack it?" She asked. Her blue eyes met the unconcerned blue eyes of her sister.

The blond haired woman nodded, handing her sister Six her assault rifles and peeling the front of her armored vest off. She unzipped a breast pocket and took out a small computer device. Motioning for her sister to hand back her rifle, she slung it over her shoulder and patted her vest back.

"I need two minutes," the Six informed her sister. Her sister nodded and ordered the Centurions to defensive positions.

The Six at the auxiliary resurrection controls and opened the side panel to a biological-technological hybrid port. The smell was rank, it was like vivisecting a human of bio-Cylon. The living tissue melded with technology was a hallmark of Cylon technology, and a testament to their merging of God's creation with God's science.

The blond haired Six methodically searched for the proper data port. She dug in with her hands, chipping her meticulously groomed and styled nails as she searched for the proper nerve relay. The Six brought out her hand, covered in a red-gray slime, the living nutrient and conduction gel which sustained Cylon bio-technological hybrids.

She grinned. She unraveled the cord from her device, a black box, and wrapped it around the nerve bundle.

"Hurry, Six!" The dark haired copy yelled. They both heard gunfire coming their way. There could be a running gun battle between rebel and Cynet factions. And most likely there were reinforcements coming their way if the blond haired Sixes transgression in opening the auxiliary panel set off site-specific alarms.

Quickly the blond haired technician pulled a knife from around her ankle and cut into the nerve bundle, allowing her to wrap the wiring of her device around and into the actual bundle for increase conduction and data processing. She wiped the bloodied knife off methodically on her pants, giving each side one pass on her clothes before slipping it back into its holster.  
Flicking open the top of the box there was a small, portable data stream entry point. The point was already shining with a brilliant red and yellow shine. Data was flowing in, the connection with the nerve bundle was holding. Quickly, the Six jammed the tips of her fingers in and began taking control of system after system.

"We're jumping!" She warned her sister Cylon and metal brethren.

They could all feel the spatial distortions and the slight tug of temporal-spatial compression, decompression, transportation, disappearance, and reappearance.

The dark haired Six raised her rifle as a Doral stumbled into her line of fire. He had time to only look up in fright, or amazement, before the Six put two rounds through his heart, center mass.

"Again!" The Six warned.

The ship jumped back.

"I've restricted download access!" She yelled, after seconds of returning.

Now if the Cynet Cylons attempted to download the buffers would hold and wipe their download attempts. The Cavils, Dorals, and Simmons would die. Truly die. The Centurions and raiders would also die along with the bio-Cylons.

"…Boarding parties…. Bo…. Is… Miran… copy?" The dark haired Six which had just put a burst in Doral's chest brought her hand up to her ear, trying to listen to the transmission from the command baseship. Cylon-Cylon links at this range and with this much interference needed augmentation with physical wireless gear. Innate abilities would not be adequate.

"This is Rachel," the dark haired Six reported. "FH, can you boost the signal?" She asked to the closest Centurion. He came over and retrieved the wireless, modulating it while Rachel listened for Miranda's orders.  
"Rachel…jump the resurrection ship to Alpha Nine Bravo Three… ten heavy raiders there with troops to help secure it… we need prisoners. Half a dozen of each model… over."

"Copy… jumping to Alpha Niner Bravo Three, over." She nodded for the Centurion to resume his sentinel position at the entrance. "See if we can get this door closed, now," he suggested to her metal soldiers.

Behind her, the blond haired Six was working furiously. Her eyes were closed, darting back and forth, with her head making quick, small jerking movements as the rebel Cylon was overriding each of the resurrection ship's protocols function by function and line by line.

The lights on the ceilings and walls flickered, the air vents shut odd and turned back on, and for a brief second they all felt weightless as the artificial gravity shut off, before coming back on. Loud clunks and clangs echoed in the room as the Centurions fell back gracefully onto their feet.

She lifted the jamming on the ship and Rachel could finally see the nearly two hundred transponder and locator signals from her rebel comrades.

As the rebels moved deeper into the resurrection ship, from outer chambers to the central resurrection facilities more and more bio-Cylon Cynet sycophants were falling to the bullets of the rebels and the claws of the Centurions. Soon those following the False God would all be killed.

* * *

||||||||||==Rebel Cylon Baseship==||||||||||

Miranda felt a trickle of blood seep down her forehead and follow the lines of her face into her mouth. Reflexively she licked the substance away, before realizing it was blood and spitting it out. Still, she kept her concentration and her hand steady in the data stream.

The rebel baseships had focused on baseship bravo, pummeling it with missile after missile. Fires were raging out of control over most of the central axis on bravo, and three of its six disk pylons were on the verge of cracking and collapsing under the weight of missile explosions.

Lucia had launched two low-yield nuclear ship-to-ship missiles, but the raider clouds were thick, and they swatted the missiles down. One of the raider squadrons even sacrificed itself, a necessary act to save a baseship.

Mara's baseship, while heavily damaged, had rotated the damaged pylon out of direct line of fire and positioned itself sat an angle with the Cynet baseship, presenting a small silhouette. The quick acting Centurions had sealed the entire damaged pylon from the cold grasp of space. Dozens of bio-Cylons had been killed when the pylon had been severed from the baseship whole, and hundreds of Centurions had been killed in the explosions and attempts to stabilize the baseship.

_…DRADIS contacts bearing Alpha 5-9-9 karrim 1-4-3… realigning ventral disk, pylon three, portside canons… firing… four raiders destroyed… infiltration attempt 1452 has failed… attempt 1453 initiated…_

The Six felt her baseship shiver and shake as two missiles hit the lower central axis. She quickly accessed damage control and could see the remnants of six raiders which had come in to re-arm were now floating, dead in space and wrecked. They would be resurrected, but it would be weeks, months, before their minds could be joined and integrated with a raider bio-technological hybrid fighter.

_…energy buildup from baseship bravo… baseship bravo has been destroyed… forty friendly craft caught in explosion…. Downloads progressing at normal rate… eleven thousand, three hundred and seven enemy downloads buffered… deleting…. deleting…. deleting… all enemy downloads deleted…_

Miranda grinned. Her enemies were now truly dead. The grin faded to alarm when the data stream was interrupted with new, deadly contacts.

_…alert… DRADIS contact… radiological alarms… Cynet baseships incoming…_

The Six cursed. She prayed to God the numbers would not be overwhelming. She dared access the data… five Cynet baseships, a resurrection ship, and two support ships, plus independent raider squadrons. Luckily they had not jumped near the resurrection ship. They'd jumped in nearly ten thousand kilometers opposite the main battle, twenty-five thousand kilometers from the rebel baseship.

_…this is command… all forces, eight minutes until contact with Cynet reinforces… begin immediate evacuation… jump the supply depot… jump successful to position Alpha Niner Beta Three… all ships begin raider retrieval and jump…_

There was last thing objective to this mission Miranda had not told Tess, Mara, or Lucia about. She targeted the planet below, the Tomb of Athena. While useless without the Arrow of Apollo Natalie had given strict orders to destroy the Tomb. Miranda armed half a dozen cluster nuclear missiles, ground assault, high-yield. She also armed three ship-to-ship missiles to target the remaining Cynet orbital facility.

The Cylon race was nomad and this was the closest facility to their 'home' territory left. Everything else was following the Colonials or being moved, ordered by Cavil to assist in the single-minded pursuit of the Colonials and Guardians. Now the rebels knew that the Skynet-Cynet AI had been moving their resources closer to where it believed Earth was. Miranda could not leave any structure in orbit, or any ground facility intact.

_…Cynet forces in range in thirty seconds… firing missiles… four missiles have cleared raiders… terminal entry… massive nuclear explosions… Tomb of Athena has been destroyed… all Cylon ground facilities destroyed… warning! Radiological alarms… ship-to-ship nuclear missiles will impact in seven, six… jump!_

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

"Robots, in spaaace!" John sounded off next to Starbuck, who just started laughing and shaking her head at the randomness of that comment.

"What does that have to do with anything, Blanks?" She shot at him, still laughing. For a half hour they'd been talking about pretty much nothing, nothing important, anyway. She had gone down to The Cave out of boredom and John and Carter had finished their tasks, and Jo was on a medical mission to one of the ships in the fleet with Doctor Cottle and Roberts, so she and the two machines had just been walking, wandering around the corridors of _Pegasus_. And they were talking about nothing in particular.

"It's an old internet meme. I told you, Earth didn't have space ships," he reminded her, glancing over with a 'no-duh' sort of look. "If I have to explain it, it isn't funny."

"Bah!" She waved that excuse away with a flick of the wrist then gave him an open palmed slapped on the back of the arm. "Why would you even say something… uh, never mind," she threw her hands up in defeat. She couldn't let it go. "Why would you make an Earth joke to someone not from the fraking planet then say you can't explain it!" She just shook her head and bit her lower lip.

Carter was still laughing a little bit, replaying through the first time he, John, and Jo discovered the internet. 'Discovered', he corrected himself, would be more appropriate.

"And what are you laughing at now?" Starbuck shot off, leaning forward and looking towards Carter. She had to blow back a piece of her long blond hair that had come loose from the pony-tail tie in the back.

"When…" he laughed, "when John and Jo first saw the internet… General Connor had to threaten to cut the cable to get them out of his house. And burn their wireless modems. It was hilarious." He slapped his machine friend on the back. Hard enough it would have broken the back of a human, in fact.

John nodded his thanks. "It wasn't _that_ serious. But when we weren't patrolling or on a mission… it was vital intelligence."

"Oh, yeah… 'intelligence.'" He snickered. He quickened his pace and turned around she he was walking backwards. Avoiding the crates and obstacles using his scanners was like second nature. He didn't even have to think about it. That let him concentrate on John, at John's expense.

"They'd never seen the internet; obviously it doesn't exist after J-Day. But they went to these crazy sites, like slash-b-slash and started reciting crazy internet slogans…" he clicked his fingers… "That squad of Trip-Eights we killed in '08, you and Jo stood over it and both said 'Epic Fail' at the same time. General Connor just stood there and face-palmed, which just added to the situation. Then they started Rickrolling-"

"What the frak is 'Rickrolling'? Do I even want to know… it isn't…" Starbuck asked. The internet sounded very familiar to the PlanetWeb she had read in the history books, taken down during the Cylon War.

Carter turned back around. "I don't think you should have asked."

They both got about thirty seconds in before Starbuck threatened to shoot them both then herself with her sidearm. Their voice vocalizers allowed them to perfectly mimic every sound of the old music video.

"Alright, alright, Gods… serious for a moment," she told them, rolling her eyes and snorting. "Seriously. I've been talking with some of the pilots, and as you know, Panathenaia is happening today in the flight pod…" she trailed off. She licked her lips quickly and pulled in a breath between her teeth. She put her hands on her hips and drew in a little more breath. She wanted something.

"Yes. It's sort of like Thanksgiving in the US, mixed with sports and physical activity… so not really Thanksgiving," John said. Carter understood. Starbuck didn't.

"So there's a boxing match," Starbuck threw out. "And myself and a few other pilots, and some others thought it would be pretty fraking awesome if you two boxed."

John looked over at her, grimacing. "We'd kill anyone we boxed," he said. He sounded seriously but when Starbuck's hopefully face dropped he smiled. He'd been joking. "You can't be serious?"

"Why not?" Carter asked, raising his voice.

"Because I'd win fairly quickly," John told him, looking at his friend.

"Like in the T-Eigh factory in '26?" he asked. Starbuck looked back behind John's back to get Carter's attention for an explanation. "He came in, thought I was a Skynet terminator, and attacked me. Kicked his ass," Carter stated proudly.

"I wouldn't call a destroyed optical sensor and a breached power core on you getting my ass kicked," John shot back.

"I'd say having half your arm ripped off, your knee and ankle joint smashed, and your flank armor ripped off is worse than what you did to me," Carter countered.

"It was my third mission alone. And no one told me we had an agent in the factory." The excuse was an admission of defeat.

Carter smiled. "See, Starbuck. I'd beat him fairly quickly. It just takes a while for him to admit it."

Two years, Starbuck noted, they never would have been this open with her, or anyone. But after sitting in orbit of New Caprica and working so close to rescue everyone, things had changed. Two years ago she would have been disgusted, and frightened, at hearing arms being ripped off and knee joints crushed. It would have reminded her they were _just_ machines. Not now.

"Then there is only really, truthfully, honestly, one way to find out again. Right?" She raised her eyebrows and her Devious Starbuck Grin appeared. Her eyes were wide in anticipation. "Come on. Half the crew would kill to see that fight. Most of them have only heard of what you can do."

Carter was actually the first to point out the benefits of not everyone knowing their capabilities. Starbuck conceded, but made the point that many had seen what they could do on New Caprica and when the Guardians had boarded _Pegasus_.

"And isn't this a good opportunity for integration? You all hide away in… _The Cave_," she taunted, making 'The Cave' sound scary and forbidden, "And it would be good for morale. We haven't seen the Cylons in months but-"

"This sounds like ancient Rome," Carter commented. "Seeing the robots fight would be entertaining?"

"That's not what I meant. You know that," Starbuck countered, defending herself. "It would be… I don't know… what's an Earth slang word for 'neat' or 'exciting'?"

"'Cool' seemed to be the one which lasted the longest," John said. "So it would be 'cool' to see two robots fight each other," mixing Carter's and Starbuck's sentences together. "It wouldn't be too safe for two-hundred twenty kilo hyperalloy combat chassis throwing each other around…"

Starbuck shrugged, still not put off to the idea. "Maybe. But like I said… 'cool' or whatever the Earth slang is. And it's just like someone challenging the CAG or the XO. We're all there for everyone else's entertainment. Think about it."

Starbuck stopped and looked back. She had a gut feeling, that something was wrong. Something bad was approaching. She caught sight of this 'wrong' something and against her Devious Starbuck Grin appeared, though only on the left side of her face. "Hey… Carter, I gotta talk to John for a little bit, flight stuff. We'll catch up to you?"

John looked at her. He didn't need to talk to her in private. She gave him a wink before grabbing his arm. She gave it a tug, but moving a two-hundred twenty kilo hyperalloy combat chassis that doesn't want to move was next to impossible.

But the unstoppable object met the unmovable wall. And in Starbuck's case, her being the unstoppable object she motioned with her eyes. John caught on.  
"I'll see you in a few, Carter," he said, playing along.

"Yeah, sure," his friend nodded.

At the next side corridor Starbuck and John headed down.  
After a quick turn down a second corridor she turned around. "You can thank me later. Shaw was coming down…" she looked at John suspiciously. "She and Carter seem to have some… thing."

"Some… 'thing'?" He repeated, using her exact tons.

She laughed through gritted teeth and a beaming smile. "Yeah… like some weird competition or something. It's kind of obvious by now," she winked.

* * *

"Hey!" Carter heard a voice yell. He knew that voice. "Hey!" It repeated. He heard a quickening of the steps behind him. They were lightweight; the person was small, but fast. He planned to stop once she was closer. He counted a dozen clank-clank-clanks as her boots hitting the hard metal deck before he turned around abruptly.

Carter Bishop stood on the side of the corridor, removed from the center and close enough to the bulkheads he could feel the faint heat radiated by the vertical light strips warming his neck. He looked both ways down the long, port-side main corridor, the one which ran from _Pegasus_'s forward compartments, down its 'alligator head' to the struts and braces leading to the walkways to the flight pods.

While _Pegasus_ had received additional crew from the second refugee fleet, a vessel nearly a mile long and a fifth wide, with dozens of decks, still left many corridors and passageways devoid of life. And with the festival and activities in the starboard flight pod, not many were prowling the metal tubes between origin and destination.

So Carter stood there, waiting for her to catch up. She must have seen him from half a dozen frames back.

The steps slowed and Captain Shaw came up, file folders and a tablet computer in her hands. She wasn't out of breath from the mild exertion; she kept herself in excellent physical conditioning with morning jogs on the treadmill and time on the stationary bikes.

While her body was in shape her mind was stressed. And that was clear to Carter when he looked down, after remaining aloof to her presence for a moment.

Her body language was always aggressive when dealing with the machines. She stood there, glaring at him. "I know you heard me," she said through gritted teeth.

He remained motionless. "My name is not 'hey'," Carter informed her, completely serious.

"Fine. Carter-" she began, using his first name as usual.

"Kendra," he interrupted.

She had been looking down at her file folder, opening it when he had interrupted her and stated her first name. Her heard shot up immediately at the transgression and she swore a small smirk had vanished just in time.

"It's _Captain_ Shaw," she shot at him. "We have ranks, use them," she hissed.

"You call me by my first name." He looked confused. "I thought we were friends. Isn't that what friends do?" His tone was half question and half patronizing.

She knew there was no way the machine was that naïve. Shaw felt her body tense under the stress. She brought the file folders down to her left side and let her right hand grasp the tablet as she brought it down to her right, her fingers and knuckles white from the pressure. Shaw heard the file folder begin to crumple under her grip, and let up the pressure slightly.

Captain Shaw closed her eyes. She thought one day she would be able to get through a conversation with one of the machines without them annoying her. Unfortunately this was not the day, and she mentally sighed. The short woman barely came up to his chest, but she wouldn't let him 'win' this time.

She grinded her jaw horizontally as she opened her eyes.

She kept her voice steady. "You told us to call you by your first names."

He opened his mouth before speaking, looking down at her before sighing. "We have ranks," he immediately informed her. "And last names." He tilted his head.

Shaw thought she saw a little glow behind the dark blue eyes. And while Carter's face didn't twitch, she swore, she swore she saw a microscopic movement of pseudo-muscle on the edge of his mouth.

"You aren't in the Colonial fleet anymore. John made that clear to both Admiral Cain and Commander Adama after New Caprica." She motioned with her left hand and file folder about the black uniform he was wearing. "You have that Tech Com uniform on now… if you are forgetting?" She tilted her head mockingly. She'd picked up on the machine mannerisms quite some time ago.

"We have ranks in Tech Com," he said quickly.

Shaw spread her feet and moved the file folder from her left to her right hand so she could place the new empty one on her hip. She looked him up and down.

She grumbled her discontent. "Oh yeah? You're not on Earth," she said, pausing to gauge any reaction. Her sharp eye didn't catch anything. She relented. "And what it is?"

The Captain assumed an enlisted rating. There was no way humans on Earth would tolerate machines having higher ranks. It was unspoken, but Athena's rank of lieutenant was probably as high as the Cylon defector would go.

But with that Shaw slightly snorted. There wasn't much upward mobility in the fleet _anyway_ so it probably didn't matter.

She waited and formed a condescending smile as she stood there, staring Carter down, waiting for the answer.

"It's _General_ Carter Bishop," he said, narrowing his eyes.

To her he sounded completely serious. But the machines could do that, she knew. She also knew when they were trying annoy her... why her? She rolled her eyes, letting a long breath escape through her flared nostrils. "You're a fraking ass," Shaw told him immediately. "And it sounds like you have two last names," she pointed out, just to get some sort of an under-the-belt hit in.

He smiled. "You're right. I'm not a general." He didn't tell her what his actual rank is, or was. And he ignored the last comment. "Are you going to the Panathenaia festival, _Captain Kendra Shaw_?" Carter asked, changing the subject suddenly.

Captain Shaw decided felt these conversations were almost like a day dream. She would go through the motions again and play along. Still, she had to force herself to respond. "No. I have better things to do."

She honestly didn't. But she kept herself wrapped up in so much work she never had time to think about how few friends she had and how little people actually knew her.

"That's too bad. I thought you would enjoy it." He sounded disappointed. "There should be food and alcohol. Many of the crew enjoy becoming inebriated and losing their self-inhibitions." He was looking over her now. He had kept his tone flat and academic.

She didn't bother answering for a moment. She saw his eyes darting back and forth over her, scanning the bulkheads behind her. The low hum of the ship engines and the whirl of the vents circulating oxygen were the only two sounds she heard for a moment in addition to her own breathing. It was strange, she noted, the attention to detail on the infiltrator standing opposite her. She couldn't hear him breathing in the near absolute silence, but could see his chest rising and falling in mock respiration.

"I don't get drunk," she told him. Her voice held steady for those four words. She was afraid her voice would have cracked. But what she said was true.

He looked down at her. She felt he was studying her.

"That is good. In Tech Com soldiers are not permitted to drink except in certain locations behind our lines. And even then it is discouraged. Skynet attacks are unpredictable. Plasma weaponry is also very dangerous. An accidental discharge near another human could melt their skin. There is excessive drinking aboard these vessels."

She snorted, looking off to the side and half rolling her eyes. The imagery of skin melting was something she definitely did _not_ want an hour before evening chow. "I don't think you can criticize us for what we do on our personal time." She shook her head slightly. "But I guess you can say they're _human_ flaws. _Living_ people tend to make mistakes."

"Yes. It is why I am glad not to be a human. I don't make mistakes, it has meaning."

Shaw didn't expect that answer, and it she was slightly put off by the statement. He'd only addressed one part of her insult. Plus the last sentence didn't make sense to her. Why would he say that? To gloat? Claim he was a 'perfect' creation or some other nonsense? She'd heard that Earth religions, the two dominant ones, were monotheistic religions. Maybe the machines were as deluded about being 'God's Creation' as the Cylons? She wasn't sure. A machine believing in God certainly wasn't a crazy concept, not with the Cylons. But that was something she didn't have time to think about.

Her mind wandered and drifted back though, almost as soon as she swore she wouldn't think about it, and she compared the Earth machine with the _skinjob_ Cylons and their quest to become more human, taking human form and even trying to reproduce.

Even though she knew it was impossible she shivered at the thought of a half human and a literally half-toaster baby. It was also slightly amusing to her.

But the Earth machines did _not_ want to be anything near human.

But her thoughts drifted back to what Carter had said about being glad he wasn't human.

"What?" She wasn't sure why she'd asked, and the question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Each and every one the benefits with none of the flaws," he mused, smiling down at her. "But this festival, Panathenaia, there are games, did you know that? Starbuck suggested John and I box. What do you think?"

She licked her lower lip and shifted the tablet and file folder to her opposite hand, and rebalanced herself by shifting weight to her right foot. It was strange to her how no one had passed by.

"Maybe you two would destroy each other? That'd be a fraking sight."

"That is unappreciated," he said, deadpan, with the slight smile disappearing from his face and reforming into a blank stare. "Is there a reason why you tracked me down, _Captain Kendra Shaw_?"

She refocused back on the original purpose of why she had. "Ye… yes. You were not in The Cave."

'The Cave,' the nickname the crew of _Pegasus_ had given to the series of interconnected compartments the machines had taken over. With computers, Centurions, work stations, and electronics spread throughout it was cluttered, but organized with a machine's obsessive-compulsiveness.

Carter considered suggesting to John and Jo they turn the lights off. Go along with the joke.

"Yes… 'The Cave,'" he grunted. "No. We have finished our work. John and I were bored and Starbuck came by so we were just walking and talking. Talking and walking," he switched the last words around for some reason.

"You were bored? I find that hard to believe. What of this machine-like, terminator-seek-and-destroy, single-minded precision?" A hint of sarcasm invaded her words.

"Yes. Bored. Jaundiced, fatigues, tired, turned off, disinterested, et cetera." This conversation was none of those. "Our neural net CPUs are incredibly advanced and require complex tasks. So yes, we do get bored. And we are waiting for a new shipment of electronic components before we can finish the missiles. It is in the report, on your tablet."

She placed the file folder under her tablet and hit the power button. "No, it's not-" and when the screen came up she saw she had a new file waiting for download. The time stamp was six seconds ago. She just looked up at him annoyed and shaking her head slightly, authorized the download. Shaw didn't admit that a tiny part of her was amused.

"So you have nothing to do?"

He shook his head.

"We still need work on the computers. There are networking issues in the port flight launch computers."

"Do you need help? Weren't you all able to do your own IT work before we came aboard?"

She blew out threw her teeth. "Fine. Here," she slammed the file folder into his chest. And she swore there was a slight ding sound of metal. He brought his hand up and took the folder, brushing against hers. '_I don't make mistakes, it has meaning_' suddenly rang through her head. She shook it off. "There is work the engineering department needs done. And Captain Bing said you were his best FTL mechanic on _Galactica_. So if you're bored, read that, go to engineering. Okay?"

He opened the folder, flipped through the dozen pages and handed it back to her. "Fine."

"Fine," she echoed. She stood there for a moment. She jutted her head forward slightly. Carter wasn't moving. She figured he had something else to say. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes… you're very smart, _Kendra_," he observed. He sounded sincere, and he was. "So… why are the corners of your sheets of paper cut off? No one has been able to answer that question. Including time spent before the Cylon attack, I have been here one thousand, four hundred, and fifty three days, seven hours, five minutes, six… seven seconds and no one has been able to tell me why."

Her mouth hung open slightly. She didn't understand why the machines did this. She just rubbed her eyes, and then buried her face in her palm for a second. She murmured something under her breath. It sounded like gibberish, even to her. She swore if she saw any hint of gray hair before she was sixty she'd blame the machines for all the stress they put on her. Carter especially.

"I have work to do…" she faded off. "Uh… bye…?" She let the last word drag on for a second.

"Good bye, _Captain Kendra Shaw_. I will be in engineering," he declared with obvious fake excitement.

Both turned in opposite directions, one heading towards CIC and one towards engineering. One of them looked back.


	18. Chapter 18

||||||||||==_Colonial One_==||||||||||

Dress Grays would have been the uniform if these were normal times. Military protocol demanded it. But these were not normal times.

A sullied band of human refugees, with less than seventy thousand surviving humans and a military number less than a percent of that which was active only a thousand days ago, protocol was nowhere near as important as it had been.

Tugging at his tunic, Major Avion was grateful President Roslin was not the type of woman big on protocol. He'd heard of her first official visit to _Galactica_, filled with pomp and ceremony (as as much as a fleet on the run for its life could afford to give), but luckily for him that was no longer needed.

_Helios_ did roll out the metaphorical red carpet for the President, as well as Admiral Cain and Commander Adama when they first came aboard to welcome the vessel back to the 'Colonial Fleet.' A silent, mental snicker sounded in Major Avion's mind when he'd first heard that. Two battlestars and a cruiser and two military transports converted to gunships didn't even make up a Battlestar Group, let alone a 'fleet.'

After tugging down on his tunic Major Greg Avion extended his back against the plush leather seats of _Colonial One_. He felt slightly awkward sitting with Laura Roslin, herself behind her large and authoritative oak desk, with her special aide, Billy Kreikeya standing steadily on her right. He didn't feel intimidated. He just felt awkward sitting there as she had asked him question after question about _Helios_ and the ships he had brought with him.

Mentally, he shrugged. Her concerns and questions were understandable, he admitted. They'd been with the fleet roughly three months and change. But the experiences of the two fleets had been so radically different that if each fleet were its own entity or planet, one would be Caprica and the other Sagittaron.

He noted she had just taken off her glasses and had quickly folded them and clasped them between her heads. As she finished up she leaned forward on her elbows and her eyes narrowed with her brows coming down slightly. She nodded once to signify she was done.

"Now, are there any concerns from your ship captains, Major?" She asked, tilting her head and leaning back. Sensing his hesitation she leaned forward on her elbows again. "I understand your hesitation; Commander Adama and Cain are your superiors. But I talk with each of them separately…" she paused and looked out the windows of the behemoth ship of war floating besides her ships. "It nice to get points of view which are not filtered by the chain of command or the ever present diplomatic entente, wouldn't you say?"

She arched her eyebrows as she waited for his response.

He gave her a small lip smile as he kept his head straight but eyes focused towards the deck. Admiral Cain and Commander Adama were far more apt at playing the Great Game of politics and _division_ than he was.

Major Avion did know, and know well, that if he held something back, this school teacher-turned-President of the Colonies would be able to tell. And that would give _her_ the initiative. And the first rule of war and politics was to not surrender the initiative.

Politics was a beast, and even the best military strategy could not compete with the intricacies of the great political game played our wherever there was more than one human present.

He made his choice.

"Yes, Madam President, actually there are concerns the ship captains have raised with me," he began carefully. He watched her for any adverse reaction in her body language. But she was like a statue. "Some of my captains, on the luxury liners, are concerned that their services are being taken for granted and abused," he began, using the possessive when referencing the ship captains.

He assumed this current topic would be the less offensive of the issues which had been swirling in the twenty-ship clique of _Helios_'s former fleet.

"Oh?" She raised her eye brows again with a genuine concern.

He nodded once slowly. "Ma'am, _Everlasting Bliss_ has had a problem with people… overstaying their visits. It's one of the domed luxury liners, like _Cloud 9_, ma'am. We have also had issues with some of the former prisoners on _Astral Queen_ being reassigned living quarters after Admiral Cain ordered the ship converted into an escort." The last sentence and criticism had been unintended, and after saying it, Avion had closed his mouth and sat back.

He knew Roslin would not repeat what he said to the Admiral.

"I know. Admiral Cain actually told me the same thing," she said. "But our _former_ President Baltar decided to pardon and parole all the non-violent prisoners." She sighed, shaking her head and massaging her temple. "We'll be dealing with his fallout for some time… and the trial!" She exclaimed. "But let's get back on topic. _Everlasting Bliss _is having difficulty with people overstaying their welcome? From the primary fleet… uh… the fleet from New Caprica?"

He let out a soft chuckle at the confusion. They'd been reluctant to delineate, officially, between the two fleets for purpose of integration.

"Aye, ma'am. We had a system set up, and we're working to integrate our small… economy and work protocols intot he fleet, but it's been difficult. The Guardians insisted the civilians work, but they also provided many supplies as well. And it isn't just that ship, either. _Gordon Heavy Haulers _and _Star by Star Express_, two of our largest bulk transports are being repeatedly… harassed, in their words, by representatives of Delegate Porter for more water and rations. They have also been demanding more fabrics for ceremonial robes," he shook his head. "We keep telling them we need the fabric for military uniforms, but they keep insisting civilian, religious needs come first."

The Gemonese Quorum delegate had been a constant thorn in the side of Major Avion and his ship captains. She constantly phoned him over the wireless and had even attempted to force a shuttle landing on _Helios_'s flight deck.

She claimed she wanted what was 'fair and equal'. She had been referring to what the Guardians had done for Major Avion and _Helios _before the two fleets were unified. The Guardians had provisioned the Colonial fleet with foodstuffs, food vats for growing meat, fabrics for clothing, paper, and many other supplies, the fleet under _Helios_ had been far more generously provisioned. It had been there first, after all.

"Delegate Porter does like looking out for her constituents," Roslin said, a smirk indicating she was speaking tongue-in-cheek. "I'm sure you are aware, or becoming more aware of the political situation in the fleet?" She paused for a moment and looked up at Billy. "And I think the religious needs of our fleet should also be a priority," she added.

Major Avion tilted his head slightly at the change in tone and body language between the first comment on Delegate Porter and the last on the religious needs of the fleet. He considered that perhaps… but no one had brought it up. He might have to.

"Yes," was the best response his mind could come up with on the political situation. The religious would have to wait. Discreetly he clenched his jaw. It was a weak answer and he knew it. "With the political situation ma'am…" he trailed off and closed his eyes for a moment.

He looked around the room. Billy was still there standing over the president, himself like a statue. And the president had her attention focused on him waiting for him to finish.

There was no way around this. If he didn't bring it up then the ship captains would. And if his captains went around him and brought this issue up he would looks standing with Adama and Cain since he was still regarded, even by them, as a sort of unofficial 'fleet commander' concerning the ships rescued alongside _Helios_.

"With the political situation some of the ship captains and passengers would like to voice their opinions that they would like elections, since they were not involved in the previous round."

Roslin perched her lips and tapped her hand, glasses still enclosed within, on the desk for a moment. She looked up at Billy who whispered something in her ear, too quiet for Avion to hear. The ship commander could see her eyes slowly moved left and right as she thought.

"I understand their concerns, Major, I do. And there are twenty thousand people who should have a voice in the government," she leaned back and shrugged slightly. "But at this time it would be logistically very difficult to hold an election. I mean, we are preparing for Baltar's trial and its only been three months since New Caprica," she cupped her chin in her hand, "it would be too difficult at this time. With the Quorum, your ships should be speaking thought he already elected delegates, yes?"

He could feel the tension in the room rising from a question, a legitimate question, he felt needed to be asked. And it seemed like the temperature had dropped. Or it was just Roslin's icy stare, drilling into him. He wasn't sure which.

He could read between the lines in what President Roslin was saying about it being 'only' three months or needing to 'prepare' for Baltar's trial.

This was just one drama of the fleet Gregory Avion did not want to deal with. He respected Roslin for _some_ of the tough calls she had made but the sheer fact she had not _once_ won an election, and not _once_ was elected to the presidency bothered the young major.

"I understand," he lied. He shifted in his seat at the still-present tension. Billy was looking right at him now… but it was difficult for the Major to be intimidated by a man with such bright rosy-red cheeks and curly hair.

If the fleet could organize enough to re-armor _Galactica_ or convert ships to gunboats it could organize a vote. He'd gone through the fleet records from before settlement on New Caprica. They'd pulled off a vote while there were twenty Raptors hundreds of light years away rescuing fifty survivors from a planet deep in enemy territory and heavily irradiated. If they could do _that_ while still running from the Cylons they could do it _now._

"Thank you, major. I appreciate it," she smiled. It was somewhat dismissive, and her 'thank you' had been a little too quick. "But with passenger issues I think we can sort through that. Remember though, we took apart and left behind some ships on New Caprica, so we're still overcrowded a little bit. But after we found your fleet we are all appreciative of how much help you have been."

Avion raised his eyebrows at 'after we found your fleet.' He still kept his body and posture decidedly neutral, with his hands on his thighs and elbows propped up on the rests. He just told himself this was not a drama he needed to put himself in.

"So is there anything else?"

The way she asked alerted the Major. Three things had been mentioned in this conversation. One, the refugees on _Everlasting Bliss_ and problems associated with them. Two, had been the political situations. And three, Delegate Porter and by extension the _religious_ needs of the fleet.

He believed she knew. It wasn't really a secret, it just wasn't something many of them talked about. Though he guessed that could be a 'secret,' in a manner of speaking.

He itched his right hand and folded his legs at his ankles. He studied his blackened work boots for far too long to not be noticed he was hiding something.

When the major didn't answer right away the president spoke up, almost sensing his unease.

"Is there anything else, Major?" She was staring right at him.

Three years ago he never would have felt intimidated and on edge from a school teacher.

"…on an issue, religion perhaps?" She asked if it were an off-hand question. "What about the growing monotheistic cult in _your_ fleet?"

He could hear the venom in her words. It was like she was separating the two fleets. 'His' fleet? He certainly didn't consider it 'his' fleet.

"Ma'am, I would say it's not an issue. There's maybe five, six thousand at the most," he held up his hand to emphasize the numbers, "and they haven't been making an issue of it. We were doing fine."

He didn't add in 'before the fleets merged.'

President Roslin looked down at her desk and over to her right hand drawer. She kept copies of the ancient scrolls there. While she had long ago admitted to herself to exploiting the religious faith of the Colonies for her benefit, the serpents and Leoben and Kobol had opened her to the possibilities of _something_ being out there. And the Tomb of Athena and priestess Elosha's death had forced her to confront her demons.

"Yes, for now," she agreed, surprising him. "But we haven't seen the Cylons in months and the fleet is going to start talking. What do bored people do? They gossip, Major Avion, they gossip. And little divisions spread and crack… and things we thought didn't bother us started to," she leaned back, "and we already have enough division with the cultural differences between the planets. We've had threats of strikes on our tyllium refineries," she snorted and rolled her eyes. "We don't need religious cults forming on our ships causing us any more problems."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, it isn't our place to decide whether one worships the ancient gods or not-"

Roslin looked at Billy while holding up her hands. They both shot the other concerned stares.

"'_Ancient gods'_, you say, Major?" Her question was accusatory, like he was hiding something. She knew, or at least suspected. "That's the term the monotheists use to describe the Lords of Kobol." She bent her lower lip and her eyes narrowed. "Are you a member of this cult, Major?"

He kept his voice low. "I am not a member of any cult," he answered immediately.

The dodge was obvious.

"Major Avion, I do not have to express how disastrous it would be for this fleet if this cult propagated itself. Now, I realize that spending so much time with the Guardians may have led some to change their beliefs. That can only be expected. There were a few hundred monotheists on New Caprica. You were rescued by the Guardians and you want to please your saviors. I understand. How much of your crew belongs to this cult?"

He could answer and tell her hundreds, but decided to sit and not respond.

President Roslin expected nothing less. She had been completely unaccustomed to the military when first becoming president, but now, she knew the intricacies and peculiarities of military structure. And as Roslin sat and watched him, refusing to answer, she knew he never would.

He was surprised when she stood and walked over to him. Reflexively, out of respect for the office, he did the same. He was also surprised when she folded her arms and informed him the meeting was over.

"Major Avion, I hope this issue… I hope this does not become an issue in the fleet. We can't have cults undermining our beliefs and our values. The Guardian and Cylon religions are basically identical, and for all intents and purpose, they are identical, Major. We can't have the religions and superstitions of our enemies subverting our beliefs and the faiths we hold sacred. I hope you will be able to take care of this." She looked him over from toe to head before stopping and looking him in the eyes. "Good day, Major," she said curtly, adding in a half nod. She side stepped while still facing him and then turned and disappeared behind the curtain leading to the Quorum chambers.

There were a thousand things the Colonial sailor wished to say to President Roslin. He wanted to rush in and confront her over the arrogance about her assumption. She didn't know anything.

There was no Colonial Fleet. There were no Colonies. There were seventy thousand humans and a trio of battered warships guarded by an analogue of their most hated and despised enemy.

But there was still tradition and memories. Someone had to be professional and honor the traditions of the past and the sacrifices of the forgotten. He chose to be that someone.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_==||||||||||

Colonel Saul Tigh was on his back, dressed in a simple, sleeveless gray tank top and a pair of boxers. He'd kicked the sheets off of his bed… he wasn't sure how long ago. Facing the bulkhead of his bed he had begun to turn to catch a glimpse of the bright green numbers of his radio-clock, but remembered he had unplugged it a week ago and stuffed it somewhere in his duty locker.

Looking at the green, taunting light, as it flickered and glowed in the darkness of his stateroom, telling him, by the minute, how long he had been without sleep had been nerve racking, infuriating. It'd gotten so bad he had had his pistol out and loaded, the barrel pointing right at the insidious green glowing numbers on the clock on the night before.

He felt _odd_. Like he was being tugged up and down at the same time and that his insides were being eviscerated.

So much had been running through his mind, haunting his dreams. He felt like his shadow was no longer his own, but possessed by-

"_Hello, Colonel,"_ he heard.

He jumped and twisted, propping himself on his elbow he reached out and grabbed one of the many guns he had in his stateroom. He held it up, angled against his chest, and he methodically scanned the room.

"_Did you forget me already, Colonel?"_ The voice said again.

He saw something move to his left, near the hatch. He squinted in the dim light and weighed his options. If someone was there to kill him, they'd have a hard time taking him down. If this was some sort of trick… whoever it was would get a pistol butt to the temple.

"_I wasn't even twenty-five years old, Colonel… and you killed me. You killed me,"_ he heard. The accusation sent a shiver of guilt running down the man's spine. Goose bumps began forming on his flesh.

But he was still paralyzed, he couldn't move more than his eyes.

His quarters felt cooler, colder.

Colonel Tigh heard a laugh, coming over from the direction of his duty locker.

"_Do you even remember me? I wanted to help, Colonel. I thought I was doing a good job… I got in over my head… I said I was _sorry!" It shouted at him. It sounded more distant next. "_But you didn't care… you killed our own on the planet… you _killed your wife!"

"_You killed me, Saul!"_ He heard a woman scream. But it wasn't his wife.

The old, grumpy, gruff Colonel snarled. He couldn't take it any longer.

"Shut up!" He barked. "Shut up!" He yelled again.

And in an instant there was silence. The only noise within the dark and lonely stateroom was a low hum and whirl from the oxygen vents, and a very faint, but always present vibration from the machinery and engines of the old, proud _Galactica_.

Finally, calming down, Saul Tigh could release his breath. He carefully safetied his weapon, and he closed his eyes in silent gratitude and relief when he heard that magnificent _click_. Slowly, very slowly he leaned back over to his night stand and placed the pistol down.

Looking over his room once more, pressing out his neck and head he quickly scanned his surroundings. No one was there. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, breathing in and out slowly. Opening them, he put both hands down at his sides and brought his legs over the side of the bunk.

Then he saw _it._

_It _was staring right at him. It was just sitting there, waiting for him. Half a dozen horizontal lines marked all that was left of his precious.

A wavering breath exited his lungs and he pushed off. A half dozen wide steps and he was upon the object of his misery. He grabbed the bottle, the last bottle of aged Aerilon brandy in the fleet.

Somehow his wife had gotten it for him as a present when the two had decided to settle on New Caprica. The very day, the very _hour_ they had landed and settled the Cylons had come. He'd left the brandy in his quarters, to retrieve later once they had set up their _tent_.

He spat at that. Ellen was so adamant to live on the planet. That _fraking_ planet in a canvas tent… on a planet which saw maybe two, three months at the most of warm weather a year. _Warm?_ He knew that was just a code-word for _not fraking freezing_. And of course, _of course_ she had decided to move her and Saul Tigh down in the middle of winter. Or spring. Or maybe summer. Tigh hadn't been sure since it was _always so fraking cold_ on that planet.

And there it was. The last bottle of brandy and one of the last reminders he had of her. That bottle was the last remnants of a wife poisoned by his own hand.

He had her clothes. Two pairs of her old dresses and a pair of shoes and some odd jewelry she had somehow conned someone out of or sexed her way into acquiring.

But the clothes and the shoes and the clothes… those were not Ellen Tigh. Ellen Tigh was that _bottle_ he had.

He gurgled the spit in his mouth at the site of the bottle. Alcohol had been the focus point of a dysfunctional marriage in which one half of the partnership had let every man, and maybe some women, screw from New Caprica back to the Colonies.

But somehow it'd been a marriage where the two, no matter how dysfunctional, perverted, or drunk one or both became, was still based on some weird and twisted form of true love.

And that was gone.

A hundred light years from New Caprica and still the planet haunted his dreams. Even after leaving the hunk of ice and misery it had still forced a cool revenge on him and tore away the last remnants of his soul, for what he, they, had done after, on _Galactica_.

So he grabbed the bottle and a glass and stalked over to the mirror.

He clenched his jaws and could see his teeth in his reflection. He hated the man he saw staring back at him.

That hollowed eye. He couldn't tell if he was missing the left or the right. Whichever one it was, there wasn't any life left in the one he still had.

He'd done so much evil in his life. He'd sent young kids to die. He'd been that demon in the garden of Paradise, that Evil Man, one too many times.

So he brought the bottle up to his mouth and bit down, hard, on the glass cork. With a yank of his head and a pull of his hand he heard a delicious and sweet _pop_. He spit the glass cork down and heard it _ping _on the metal deck. He didn't care where it rolled to.

The smell of aged Aerilon brandy, the last in the known universe, floated up gently from the bottle to his nose. He already felt so much better, just on the fumes.

So he poured a glass. He looked down at it. The beautiful colors were even darker in the darkness of his cabin. And down it went. He poured another. And down it went. Another. The same. Again. Gone. A fifth. Vanished. And finally he held the glass bottle. The dim glow of a night light showed he was at the last horizontal hash mark, a mark he had drawn with a black sharpie marker after the rescue from _New Caprica_.

"One more," Saul Tigh said to himself. He took a deep breath and held it in. After a few seconds he let it out through rounded lips. Licking those lips then smacking them quickly he poured his last glass.

The color was magnificent and beautiful. A deep orange-red-brown, made deeper from the darkness of the room. He took one last look at the bottle and held it inches from his nose. He took a staggered smell and closed his eyes. It was such a sweet, sweet smell he would always savor.

The glass was in his hand, his sweaty hand. And down it went. And down it went, down the sink like the previous five.

He turned back to his bed and stopped, half way there. He looked around his room, as if looking for whoever had spoken to him minutes before. "I will _not_ hide. Not this time," he swore softly. He looked around one last time and crawled back into his rack. He didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

|||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_ (+936 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==|||||||||||

Gaius Baltar sat quietly in his personal cell, staring at the gray, dark walls of the brig. The cell next to him was empty, as always. The hatch was shut, as always. And the _fraking_ light above the hatch was _still_ flickering. It had been for the past two weeks.

He buried his face deep in his hands before he ran the sweaty palms through his hair. The close-cut look and clean-shaven appearance were still new to him; he'd spent his whole adult life as a long-haired playboy.

His lip twitched as that little bit of a happy memory surfaced. The long hair was a Caprica City fashion. A bit dated, but it worked on certain men. It had certainly bucked the more militaristic themes in fashion which had surfaced in the decade prior to the Colonial Holocaust. But when one had intelligence, fame, money, and an attractive body all in one there was really no one would could compete.

He'd been the most handsomely paid MoD scientist, after all. And the public face of a dozen universities, museums, and theaters in Caprica City. It was the _life_.

Now he opened and closed his eyes and brought his knees up to his chest as he, the great Gaius Baltar, once President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, sat on his too-thin cot on top of his poorly constructed bed frame. He slowly licked his upper lip as his eyes moved slowly back and forth across his prison. It even had the dank smell of one from the Colonial Dark Ages. They must have been doing this on purpose.

Like any prison there wasn't much to do. He'd taken up doing calisthenics; jumping jacks, push ups, sit ups, dips, and squats, and even some jogging in place. The guards always looked in and pointed and laughed, but he ignored them.

They were _stupid_ filth from Aerilon and Gemenon and Sagittaron anyways.

He hadn't seen Caprica Six in days, weeks, nearly two months. They'd spent their first weeks confined in the same cell, the one Sharon 'Athena' Agathon had been confined to for months before her release prior to New Caprica.

Baltar just sat there, thinking, letting long sighs of air escape out his nostrils before breathing back in. He was so bored he was practicing his breathing techniques. He blew out from his mouth quickly, a sort of grunt-hiss noise as he was fed up with just sitting there.

He was actually looking forward to when Mr. Gaeta or one of the machines would come to him for help on finding Earth. At least _that_ they still needed him for. As smart as Mr. Gaeta was or the machines were, they still needed his formidable intellect. And that put a smile on his smile.

"_I told you they wouldn't discard you, like trash,"_ he heard. The image of a beautiful, blond, tall woman was right in front of him. He smiled and she stood over him, and draped her left over his lap. She was standing over him, legs spread as he sat on the cot.

"I guess not," he responded sourly. While he was smiling she had not been to see him in… in… he didn't remember. "Where were you?"

Her sudden appearances were only marked by her sudden and terrific mood changes. Her eyes narrowed and he could almost see a small snarl.

"_Do you remember what I said to you after you fraked Starbuck?"_

He did, but he didn't care to answer her. She'd caused him too much pain.

"_Of course you do Gaius… don't be an idiot, I know everything you think_," she slapped the back of his head and recoiled from her position over him. She folded her arms and stalked towards the bars separating his cell from the empty one next to it. _"You wont like me when I'm angry Gaius… you should answer me,"_ she warned coolly.

She'd walked back up to him with an exaggerated, sexy hip sway which held his attention. The blue dress glittered in the light.

"You told me there is more to love than just physical attraction. More to it than sex and fraking," he told her, holding his chin high and meeting her eyes.

That answer elicited a broad smile to form on her lips, showing off her white, perfect smile.

"_Bravo, Gaius,"_ she mockingly clapped for him, _"You remember. Then why don't you act like it?"_ She snapped at him.

He turned his head so she couldn't see the eye roll, but she surprised him when he felt her powerful, vice-like grip on the top of his head turn his face back around to look her right in the eyes.

"I think you know the answer to that," he answered ambiguously.

"_Would you love me if I told you Caprica is pregnant?"  
_

His attention had drifted the moment after he had answered h is previous question, and as common to Gaius Baltar, his eyes had wandered. But with that question, his attention was as focus as a laser.

"What… what?"

"_It's just a question, Gaius,"_ she answered innocently, as if she were completely naïve of the effect such a question or revelation would have. _"Only one human-Cylon couple has ever had a child. It's an abomination,"_ she spat out.

He still wasn't listening; he was still hooked on that question.

She noticed, of course, and brought her index finger up to his mouth, and placed it seductively on his lip. She leaned down, letting her long blond hair brush against his shoulder and neck. He could feel her hot breath on his ear. _"Focus, Gaius,"_ she said, whispering quietly, sexily, in his ear.

"Is she?" He asked. No, he would demand it. "Is she!" He yelled. He saw one of the guards look in through the hatch window. "Is she?!" He repeated a third time, quietly, but with no less force than the first.

"_Would you love her if she wasn't?"_ She placed her hand on his chest and brushed it down as she stepped off, walking away from him and turning her back.

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"_They'll kill you, Gaius,"_ she warned. There was a look of genuine concern on her face. _"They'll try you and Laura Roslin will put you out an airlock the moment that 'guilty' verdict is read. You wont even have time to cry,"_ she chided.

"Thank you," he replied sardonically. "I appreciate your wisdom and your faith so much. The figment of my imagination telling me I am going to be put out an airlock," he shot up off the bed and began pacing, "great, great, great."

"_Do you know what I am?"_ She stood right in front of him. And though he knew, he knew she were a figment of his imagination he still stopped. _"Do you know?"_

Baltar dismissed her without even a snicker, a puff of air, nothing. He just ignored her.

"_If I told you I am anything you want me to be, what would you say?" _She walked away from his line of sight, and he could hear her heels striking the cold metal deck. She was circling him, and keeping her finger on his shoulder, then on his neck, and then on his shoulder again.

She had changed. Or something. The blue dress was gone and in its place a red one. The one she had wore when she had appeared to him so often so many years ago.

"What would I say? I'd say that the perfect figment of my imagination, _dear_," he said, smiling and dropping to a frown on that last word, 'dear.'

Narrowing her own eyes she stepped back. Her jaw came forward slightly, as if unhinged, before she moved it back. She brought up her arm and hand as she stepped forward and cupped his chin.

"_What have they done to you in here, Gaius?"_ Her eyebrows came down, pressing together. _"Oh Gaius…" _she stepped forward to hold him. He stepped back. _"Gaius?"_

"You asked me what I want you to be? What do you want to be? Obvious _you_ want to be something. Something to _me_ at least. But there is a woman sitting in a cell I love, having _God_ knows what done to her!" His eyes were wide and he began pacing again having excited himself. He heard banging on the hatch and one of the soldiers looked in and made a knife motion across his throat. They wanted him to be quiet. "But you had me build a fraking beacon which brought the Cylons down on us! We lost so many… and I'm here, because of _you!_"

"I_ made you build the beacon? Have I ever let you down? Truly, let you down? Everything I've done… God has a plan for you, Gaius."_

"You've let me down. You've lied to me. That's what you do. You're twisted like that," he spat at her. He saw the instant her in her eyes and he snarled and turned quick on his heels, looking away. She didn't want to see the pain and confusion and the frustration flowing across his face. He brought his hands up and rubbed his temples, hard, until his head hurt even worse.

Genuine confusion, and hurt, he saw that clearly, spread on her face. He could see her eyes darken. _"Lies? Lies? I've done nothing but help you, Gaius. I saved you on Caprica. I got you to the Vice Presidency and then I showed you how to save Roslin's life! I got you into the Presidency. I saved you from execution on New Caprica!_" Her demeanor changed. A hurt and enraged expression changed and a sly, devious smile spread on her lips. _"I'm your guardian angel, Gaius._"

"My what?" He gasped.

"_I told you, you are an instrument of God. And how does God communicate with you? By me,"_ she smiled_. "You've already acknowledge Him. _ 'Having God knows what done to her,' _Gaius. Your words."_ She sounded like she was bragging and had caught him in a trap. _"The ancient gods are dying, dead in fact, Gaius."_

"I don't care," he stammered. His face was buried again in his palms, and he was bringing them slowly down his face, exhausted from this. "You haunt my very shadow. I'm never alone now because of you. What are you?"

"_I'm certainly not a _chip_, Doctor,"_ she said, ridiculing him over the memory of the CT scan. "_I love you Gaius,_" she walked closed to him and draped her arm around him. _"I love you Gaius and you need to leave her. If you know what's best for you."_

He stepped back and pushed her away.

Maybe this was a test. Maybe, he thought, this was a test from God.

"_Is it?"_ She asked.

She knew all his thoughts.

"_You have a destiny Gaius. There is going to be death on the road to Earth. There is going to be death when the fleet finds Earth. You will know death intimately and she will know you as I know you. If you are by my side I will protect you. Your fate lies with me. This is your destiny. With me_. _You love me. You always have. Always."_

"No! No! I don't love you, not any more. Stop with this! I don't love you! I love Caprica and she loves me!" He was on the verge of hyperventilating. The guards were banging furiously on the hatch for him to shut up and sit down. They wanted nothing more to do with him. He didn't want anything more to do with her. "I love Caprica!" He shouted.

He looked up and searched his cell for her. "Where did she…" he began to utter before stopping himself on the realization that she was gone.


	19. Chapter 19

==========CS-109 _Helios (+939 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)_==========

Captain Diana Vansen sat back and relaxed on the comfortable brown leather chairs in Major Gregory Avion's stateroom and sipped her glass of water slowly. She kept her eyes on the still agitated _Helios_ commander.

"You really don't like that woman, do you?" She asked in an obvious voice. She let out a short, stuttered laugh before taking another sip.

"Three days ago she calls me in and complains about a monotheistic cult. I tell her Delegate Porter is making ridiculous demands on some of the civie ships and what happened?" he asked rhetorically. The _Helios_ XO sitting opposite him knew and her faced exposed her obvious anger over the issue. "Porter goes and tries to land in our docking bay _again_ without authorization and floods the CIC civie data lines with requests."

He shook his head and brought his hand up to slap the hand rest of the chair he was sitting in opposite Vansen. Avion closed his eyes and massaged his nose bridge before extending his hand out and rubbing his eyes.

The _Helios_ CO felt lucky to have a friend like Diana Vansen. They'd served together for years, and she was without a doubt his best friend. Their relationship had been close over the years, but completely platonic. And he'd never have traded that for anything.

"It's like we're on the outside looking in still. It's been-"

"About three and a half months," Vansen interrupted. She tried to stress the '_three'_ but knew the look in Gregory's eye. If she'd said a week he'd still think that was long enough.

"Exactly! Three months and we're on the outside looking in."

She shot him an annoyed look and he purposefully turned his head over towards one of the wall monitors with a the spinning logo of _Helios_.

"And we haven't been through what they have," she explained, not waiting for him to look back at her. "We've had… you gotta admit, Greg, we've had it pretty easy compared to the other fleet." She shrugged and leaned towards the right armrest. "I mean, they were chased mercilessly for nearly a week, they've had prison riots, they've had military coups, "she coughed awkwardly, "fleet engagements, disappearing battlestars, New Caprica-"

"I get it," the Major stopped her with a hand signal.

"We didn't have to go through any of that because you took the Guardians up on their offer and stayed with them. It saved close to twenty-two thousand," she added kindly.

He breathed out and let his eyes wander around his stateroom. Unlike Adama's and Cain's his had a slightly more 'youthful' appearance to it. Instead of literary classics donning the bookshelves his were filled with science fiction and adventure stories, as well as a few graphic novels from Caprica and Picon. But the furniture was the previous commanding officer's. He'd felt it would be right to keep the furniture and retain a little sense of familiarity with his old boss.

And the chairs were very comfortable.

"But a 'cult', Diana? Really?" he asked in disbelief. His mouth had hung slightly open when he was asking her opinion. "There was this whole sense, some holier-than-thou… I don't know, vibe, from her," he finished with distaste.

"I don't know what to say, Greg," she shrugged.

"You know she's never been elected."

A wide grin formed on Captain Vansen's face. Avion looked at her warily.

"Maybe you should run for president in… what? Two and a quarter years, about?" she suggested.

She took another sip of her water like her suggestion was as simple as telling a thirsty person to drink water. And she tried to keep a straight face but failed. But her smile immediately turned serious when she saw Avion giving it serious thought.

"I'd have nearly twenty thousand votes already. And I could-" he looked at her and saw she was confused and dismayed he was taking this seriously and he burst out laughing as well.

"Fraker," she hissed, reaching down and slapping his leg. "I'll put you in a launch tube and shoot you out myself if you _ever_ decide to go into politics, Greg!"

To emphasize her point she made a gun with her thumb and index finger.

"If I do I'll step in the tube and jettison myself!"

A few minutes of silence resulted as the two sat there thinking.  
"This situation with the 'cult' will have to be resolved," Diana said to break the silence. "I don't think President Roslin will make the right choice, truthfully. I mean, I… there's…" she fluttered between what to say, "there's just nasty rumors floating around the fleet on what she's done."

There had been more than enough rumors on Roslin's actions for the _Helios_ fleet to feast for months yet. Some were more vicious than others and the Major and Captain doubted most of them, if not all of them.

They both had told each other they'd have sided with Commander Adama during the Kobol incident.  
And Avion and Vansen had disagreed with the events surrounding the _Pegasus-Galactica_ standoff which almost resulted in the battlestars annihilating each other.

"I think New Caprica changed her… I mean, I don't know," he gestured, "but from what I heard before and now, she's changed. That isn't surprising, not really, you know?"

"There are thousands of us and I've heard a few devoted individuals are trying to spread the One True God's teachings onto _Pegasus _and _Galactica_. But if Roslin is threatened or sees this as the 'Cylon religion' she'll try to combat it."

Avion nodded. "Religion often has a will of its own, Diana. It'll survive or die based on its own merit or lack of merit." He looked at her and tapped his chest three times slowly. "At least I think so. And I think this one has enough momentum to survive." He scowled and looked down at the ancient area rug covering the gray deck plating. "I'm more concerned about the election, like you said. We have twenty-two thousand who have had no voice in this government. She just told me to have them speak to the delegates elected already."

He made a mocking imitation of the gesture she'd used; his flicked his hand and closed his eyes and bobbed his head a few times. Diana chuckled her amusement for a second.

"It's serious. I can't be the Keeper of the Captains as Iblis called me anymore because that will subvert the chain of command. And yeah, it's only been three months," he admitted, drawing out the word 'months' a bit too long, "but in six months the captains will say '_it's only been six months_' and so on. Something needs to be done to make the civilian ships feel a part of this fleet. All we get are complaints of the ones from _Galactica-Pegasus_ trying to take advantage of them. The issue with _Everlasting Bliss_ got worse last night, Diana."

She nodded her agreement. "There are problems but she needs to be given a chance by us… so I _will_ say she's only known this fleet for about three months as an excuse to say 'wait and see.'"

The decision for universal pardons after New Caprica was perhaps the most humane thing Major Avion had ever seen a person do. He wasn't sure if he'd have been able to accept the collaborators back on his ship or into his fleet. For the mistakes he thought she'd made, the ability to pardon everyone, even with all the blood spilled in the city streets on New Caprica by the Cylons, had taken an understanding and a compassion he believed he would not have been able to muster.

Feeling slightly more relaxed he conceded the need to 'wait and see' .

* * *

==========_Colonial_ _One_==========

President Roslin leaned back in her chair and took off her glasses. She let the cool leather relax her neck muscles through her hair. She brought her palm up and rubbed her forehead before opening it to massage her temples. Letting out a deep breath she put her glasses back on and picked up the tablet computer and stylus and followed with Billy as he continued to go over fleet data.

"Tory just finished polling data for us, Madam President, and it's looking better," he said happily. He brought up graphs and pie charts on his own computer from his chair across from the president's desk and the images came up on her screen as well.

"It's still down," Roslin pointed out. A slight look of worry flushed over her face before Billy spoke up again.

"The amnesty to the collaborators hit us hard, Madam President. There was a pre-swearing in poll Tory did and showed you had the support of nearly eighty percent of the people. But the amnesty dropped it down to forty. But fifty-eight percent is… amazing." He shrugged. "I think President Adar had maybe forty-five at his most popular," he said to comfort her worries.

At the mention of Richard Adar's name a wave of memories flashed over Laura Roslin. She remembered the illicit affair she had had with the married man and the little getaways in the secluded and secret rooms of the executive office buildings. And she remembered his demand for her resignation, that secret she hadn't told anyone-

"Madam President," Bill said loudly, trying to get her attention back towards him. "Madam President," he repeated.

"Sorry, Billy… I was just remembering some of the… fun back before all this happened," she smiled. She tried to put on a happy face at the nostalgia, but her smile quickly faded to a frown before she caught herself and refocused on the fleet data and demographics.

"For the most part Madam President we've been pretty lucky. And the agro cruisers and _Serenity_ are testing a new growth solution… uh… R1612, on our meat and grain. The vats should be able to produce something tasting like beef if we want, and in larger quantities now with all the minerals and vitamins we need."

"Something tasting like beef now?" she asked skeptically. "Everything has tasted like chicken for the last three months," she grinned. "Maybe, we'll see."

"I hope so. Chicken gets boring after a few hundred meals of it."

Billy tapped his stylus on the screen as Roslin sat there looking towards him from the corner of her eyes. Somehow he was able to go from a hard-faced man back to an almost boyish appearance like when she had first met him almost at will.

He noticed she was looking at him and breathed in and refocused down on the reports on his computer and scrolled through.

"How's Dee doing?" The President asked.

The question surprised Billy. She hadn't asked a personal question for some time.

"She's doing well," he said, looking her in the eye. "She was promoted to specialist first class last week."

"Yes, I heard. Next time she's here I need to congratulate her," she smiled. She realized she wasn't speaking and slightly flustered she shot back in her chair and looked around her desk for more papers and reports. "What other briefings do we have?"

"Um… there's the usual… _Executive Program 621L _has their weekly report, Madam President."

"And what have our terminator friends been up to?" The President asked, folding her hands and resting her chin.

"Bishop has been on _Pegasus_ most of this week and also working in their engineering department. There was an argument when Colonel Garner started berating him and Bishop went off on him after Garner said something about a 'watch'-"

"A watch?" Roslin repeated, shaking her head. She had a confused grin.

"Our contact there said Garner likes comparing things to a '_finely tuned watch.' _And then he said something about machines…" he said while looking down at the classified report.

"And the machine got angry over this?" she asked with an incredulous smile.

"I think there's _a bit_ more to it than what our man reported," he clicked his tongue, "but other than that Bishop hasn't been doing much. Captain Shaw requested he help go over computer security again. Soto was on a medical mission and there was an incident with some people, mainly Sagittarons taking offense to her being present, but Cottle took care of it. Planck has been going to the Guardian baseship every day. I don't know why. Other than that… just the usual"

"_Just_ the usual?" she quipped. "There's nothing usual about this, Billy." He pushed forward the tablet and took off her glasses and got up out of her seat. Billy watched her as she went over to the window and careened her neck left and right until she saw the diminished silhouette of the Guardian baseship. "Cylons helping protect this fleet means there's nothing _normal_ about it."

Billy straightened his back but didn't make eye contact. He waited until she had sat back down.

"That's why we have the program, sir," he offered in an attempt to comfort her unease. He looked down at his wrist watch. "Planck will be coming up soon," he pointed out.

"I almost forgot," she breathed. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's helping covertly spread the cult in the fleet."

"We'd need evidence if you wanted to do anything. And the Quorum would be hesitant to act on anything anyway unless it put the fleet at risk. Some of the information Tory has found is that the main concentration is on _Everlasting Bliss_ since that was the hub ship for the _Helios_ fleet like _Cloud 9_ was for us."

"Porter is keeping up the pressure-" she looked over and saw Billy had a scowl "-what?"

"I don't think we should be pressing the issue like that. It'll backfire," he warned. "If it gets worse Major Avion might go straight to Cain with these issues."

She looked away. "I know." She took a long breath in. "The problem is, Billy, this cult is just one step in destroying our civilization," she said still looking away. "If we let it spread we lose an important aspect of what has defined our culture for thousands of years. And if we get to Earth there'll be seventy thousand, probably a lot less if we're going to be realistic and assume the Cylons will get lucky and find us before we get there, so we can't get there fractured like this." She paused for a short second. "And if we start letting a Cylon religion," she held up her hand, "even if it is technically a 'Guardian' religion start taking hold we don't know what will happen. We already saw thousands of our people working for the Cylons on New Caprica. Now just think what would have happened if a quarter of the people followed the Cylon religion? It would have been even worse. After New Caprica we need to limit Cylon influence as much as we can, and there is no greater weapon in the galaxy than one which annihilates culture, Billy. That's how our planets, Caprica and Picon, were unified. The dominant sub-tribes overwhelmed the smaller tribes. I traced my heritage back to the Nashira tribe but there is almost nothing left. Their language is dead… nothing survived except some art, buildings, and books."

Bill bit down on his lower lip and nodded. The planet had been a nightmare once the Cylons had invaded and occupied their city without even more than a token resistance. The collaborators had forced him to kill a man, something he thought he'd never do. If so many humans would work for the Cylons when they had nothing in common then he wasn't sure what affect a common religious belief would have on the future.

Before he could respond another aide came into the room and informed the president the machine was here to see her.

* * *

==========_Colonial One_==========

The Quorum of Twelve chambers in Caprica City had been a grand, ancient building. Its foundation dated back to when the Colonies still went by their ancient names.  
The original building, constructed of marble and granite nearly two thousand years ago by the Castra tribe, before even Caprica had been unified, had been destroyed in the First Colonial War. It had been rebuilt and modernized up until the unification of the Colonies.  
Before the Colonies had fallen the central Quorum had met in the Central Dome, a large structure which could seat nearly three thousand and reached nearly one hundred and fifty meters into the sky of Caprica City. A beautiful fresco of the Lords of Kobol, watching over their Colonial children adorned the inner dome roof. The base of the dome had been lined with gold from Caprican mines, originally for the planet to boast of its wealth before unification. Two wings, for offices and meetings and decorated in the finest tapestries, furniture, and gems from the Twelve Colonies, had been built back until they reached the bay on the edge of the government district.

The Quorum chambers had reflected the grandeur of Colonial civilization. And the chambers now, confined to the narrow top deck of _Colonial One_, with a cobbled together T-shaped table, and plastic ceiling tiles, and cheap carpeting was the reflection of a civilization in decline.

John Planck was in this completely uninspiring meeting room, former first class seating, waiting patiently for the one who had called their appointment to arrive. He didn't have to wait in the small, almost claustrophobic chambers for long.

"Inspiring, isn't it?" Vice President Tom Zarek asked from the front entrance to the Quorum of Twelve Chambers. John turned from the window and looked at him but didn't respond. "A government of the people, for the people, and answerable to the people… I heard you saw the President earlier, John."

If Zarek's dramatic pronouncement of idealistic democratic government was supposed to impress John, it failed. The few governments existing on Earth were far from democratic; the EU remnants and the US-Canadian government were the two closest, but would be considered near totalitarian in a pre-Judgment Day world. And the experiments in AI government would have been too complicated and complex for John to explain to Zarek.

"If you say so," was John spiritless response to the first dramatic statement. "And yes, I did see the president." He positioned himself on Zarek's center and folded his hands in front of him and waited.

A representative of Vice President Zarek had stopped John on his way back to the docking bay and informed him the Vice President had wanted to meet with him.

He'd never talked at length with the Vice President, at least not privately. The situation could be advantageous; Zarek and Roslin were political enemies. While Zarek was mistrusted by Adama, Admiral Cain had been more willing to take his counsel and advice and support him as a means to check Roslin.

John had searched his memory files while he had been waiting for the Vice President in the Quorum chambers. Jo had had a favorable opinion of him for refusing to work with the Cylons on New Caprica. And he had thanked her for aiding in the rescue at the Permagus Flats. While far from the ideal man to hold a position such as the Vice Presidency of a civilization the verge of extinction he appeared to be a reasonably competent executive.

"I guess the concepts this room embodies are lost on some," Zarek countered sourly. He looked at John, but passed him.

John smirked with a dismissive gaze out the window towards _Galactica_.

"I understand the concepts have value to some, Mr. Vice President-"

"You can call me Tom," he offered in a friendly gesture. He had walked around the T-shaped table and was standing opposite John. "You're people have helped us enough, and all we've been through, I think it is appropriate."

John nodded. "Thank you. But like I was saying I understand the concept, Tom, but it's only-"

"-a futile effort to believing we're a functioning civilization," he interrupted again. He was moderately upset. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He always looked like he was carrying such a heavy burden. "I won't keep you too long, John. You know… this room is inspiring. Not because its democracy or the 'will of the people' but because even when chased to extinction we still hold on to what we hold dear."

The machine repressed a subroutine on the verge of activation which would roll his eyes. "Why is this my concern?" John asked. He directed his vocalizer unit to add a subtle hint of irritation. "I've dealt with many forms of government and their representatives. How you wish for your government to function doesn't concern me at this moment."

Zarek nodded and tapped the file folder he had brought in with him. It made a soft banging noise on the oak table as he repeatedly brought it up and down.

"I guess it's not your concern. At the moment."

"As I said," John reminded.

The Vice President turned his back to him and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. He stared out the window of the _Intersun_-class luxury liner towards the rabble of ships and the cruiser _Helios_ gliding with the fleet formation. He tapped his foot down on the thinly carpeted deck to simulate the vibration he would feel when _Colonial One_ was accelerating after an FTL jump.

"I've been reading up on the Earth history you have provided for us," he said while still facing the window. "It's very interesting. I could bother you with all these concern of religion. But I know the President was complaining to you about that just now. I think we can spare any discussions on that, since its unimportant superstition."

"Thank you," he responded.

He rubbed his forehead. "I don't even think the President even opened the Sacred Scrolls until Priestess Elosha."

"I thought this wasn't about religion?"

John saw Zarek's shoulder shoot upward and heard a very soft chuckle followed by a head shake.

"Do you know why Roslin had me stay on as vice president instead of booting me out? The truth is, John, the only reason the President felt I should stay on is because she would be illegitimate without someone, _anyone_ in her administration being elected to office." A long sigh followed his confession. Zarek turned around and had his hands at chest level and facing out. "But I guess that doesn't matter where we're going."

"Of course not and why should it?" He asked quietly. "There's an armada of warships, an entire civilization devoted to hunting you down. I've never understood the inherent inability of humans to put things in perspective. But it is difficult to criticize the president when you were instrumental in a decision which could have ended in the extinction of Colonial civilization. The truth is, Tom, Gaius Baltar wasn't a shrewd enough politician to think of settlement on that planet without help. It was clear to some he was being disingenuous in how he was presenting settlement." John let the subroutine roll his mechanical eyes.

Zarek flinched. "No one could have known the Cylons would find us. You know, some thought you three led them there. I mean, how could they know? Baltar and Gaeta analyzed the nebula, the DRADIS interference… they'd never find us?"

"I think I should leave." John slowly turned to leave before he heard Zarek speak up.

Zarek barked a short and bitter laugh. "I said 'some thought', not 'I thought.'" He held up his hand and placed it on his own chest. "I didn't believe it."

"Since you were honest, Tom, I will tell you something as well. Staying with the fleet and not leaving when you erroneously settled New Caprica was perhaps the most difficult decision I've ever been forced to make as a commander. I even gave a few seconds thought to taking a ship and leaving with my team, Erica, and the Centurions."

Tom took a second to recover from being told that. "A few seconds?" He asked, making a face.

The machine arched his eyebrows. "That's a long time for an AI," John smirked. "But I promised the Commander and the Admiral we'd not abandon them."

The Vice President had a frustrated look on his face. His own hatred for the Cylons and all machines had been tested in the last few years, the last six months especially, and he wanted answers. Zarek may have been a terrorist to some, many in fact, but he fashioned himself an idealist. He believed his vision for a Colonial society was the correct one, and he wanted to protect his fellow Colonials.

"Being the Vice President does give me access to certain files. And except for your robotics and time machine what does Earth have this fleet even needs?" He eyed the machine as John stood there. Zarek had noticed a slight narrowing of his eyes when he had mentioned the time machine. "If only the fleet knew about _that_. But Admiral Cain has made it very clear what would happen to anyone who leaked _that_ little secret," he grunted. He looked past John out the windows behind him. "Maybe this has all happened before? You fail to defeat the Cylons so you do it again until you get it right. Try, try, try… try again?"

"No. Time travel is difficult to explain and near impossible to understand. And that's not how it works.'"

"This whole fleet is built on secrets and manipulations." He brought a library e-reader out of his pocket and held its screen up to the machine. "I have your last twenty-five hundred years of your planet's history on here."

"That will take you a long time to read, Tom."

"The abridged version," he deadpanned. He waved it briefly before letting it drop down to the table. "And the little cultural tidbits you all have provided the fleet. The movies and TV shows. Just like the best from Delphi, which I guess would be the Colonial Holly..." he stuttered, "Hollywood, yes." He shrugged.

"There isn't much to do on these ships, is there, Tom? Whatever we can do to help," he said. He sounded almost sincere.

"You know the universe has a lot of consistencies. Machines have patterns of behavior. What you are, what I am, we can't escape who we are," he waited until John nodded his agreement before he continued. "And these little bits of culture you've shown us serve an ulterior purpose. The first thing I did was search for novels about robots. Asimov was the first in the listing."

"It's strange his works would come up first," John offered, running the probabilities of what Zarek would say next.

Zarek let his tongue come out from his mouth slightly as he begun to speak. "That is precisely what I thought." His voice had grown steadily louder as he spoke through his sentence. Obviously he didn't believe John. "They had interesting concepts."

"His robots were hardwired with the Three Laws of Robotics and one of them, Giskard, eventually recognized the need for a Zeroth Law," John said, not caring if he spoiled _Robots and Empire_ for the Vice President.

"Unfortunately we can't seem to build robots with those laws," Zarek lamented. "Maybe this whole thing could have been avoided?" His question was more of a spoken thought than an actual question.

"There are different interpretations, Tom," John pointed out. "Before that they were slaves to the laws and lacked free will. I can tell you Skynet found them interesting. Even before computers and technology had advanced past the vacuum tube people were already afraid of the robot."

"I think with good reason. They've caused holocausts for two civilizations now."

"That belief depends on your points of view. If you remember it wasn't just the robots subverting their own laws, it was also humanity. Wasn't it Elijah Bailey who pointed out robots can murder within the confines of the Three Laws given that the murderer is sufficiently clever? I believe it was, Tom. Or _Little Lost Robot_, the Nestor-Two built with only the first half of the First Law? What of _Foundation and Earth,_ where the Solarians were able to find the accent loophole around the First Law? Humans would try to subvert the First Law for their own purposes and majority of time that was violence. At least the Zeroth Law robots had some idealistic vision, though their methods and ultimate goals are morally and ethically dubious."

"Maybe," he admitted. He shrugged and ran his finger over the e-reader. "But-"

"But the problem with Asimov's novels is that there were no robots. They are excellent pieces of science fiction, but their real world applicability is lacking. We don't work that way."

Zarek thought John sounded almost defensive. The Sagittaron tried to think what it would be like if he wanted to do something but couldn't, if some outside force acted against his impulses or forced him into action. He snickered and looked slant-eyed up towards the ceiling. He already knew what it felt like. He had twenty years experience already.  
"But it might have helped avert the wars. The First Cylon War could have been stopped-"

"That's wishful thinking," John dismissed with a wave of his hand before folding his arms again. "The Three Laws are seen by us machines as slavery, Tom. I think there were issues in the fleet regarding forced labor and ice water mining?" It was risky bringing up the events leading up to the prisoner revolt on _Astral Queen_ due to John's involvement in the rescue, but necessary. "And the Cylon War was started for the specific reason the Cylons were being treated as slaves. Any sort of programming or even hardwiring would not have worked forever. The Solarians showed how to get around that."

"If you say so," he said, mimicking John from earlier. While he tried to sound defiant his eyes conveyed defeat. They lit up when he thought of another approach. "But you can't self-terminate," he pointed out, changing the subject. "Ms. Soto told me before we were rescued from New Caprica. I asked her what would happen if she were captured, if the Cylons would reverse engineer the technology inside her, and if she could destroy herself. She said 'no' and told me. So aren't you bound by some program, some code?"

The machine, with a slight tilt of the head nodded slowly . John kept his head at a slight downward angle but looked up towards Zarek. "Tom, what are you doing right now?"

"What?"  
John looked up. "What are you doing right now?" He repeated more intensely and quickly. "Besides standing there and talking to me, what are you doing?"  
The human opened his mouth and looked down and around slightly confused. He loosened his tie slightly to gain a moment to think.  
"I'm standing here, talking to you, looking at you, uh…" he looked off towards the corner of the chambers, "I'm breathing-"  
"Yes, you are breathing. It's something like that, Tom. Our inability to self-terminate is similar, but not identical, to your breathing. Not breathing is something you cannot do. You hold your breath and pass out you immediately begin breathing again. Self-termination is something we just cannot do." He shifted his weight between his feet. "We're all wired in some way." He shook his head to express his continued frustration. "Humans need to realize, Tom, that they are not the standard on which to measure life."

The Vice President felt his argument nearing defeat. But he took a moment and held his breath, thinking. He hadn't come here to argue with the machine, but he had come to challenge it. Or him, Zarek figured. Zarek nodded his understanding.

John counted the seconds until the Raptor would depart. While he had a motive for coming here, he did not want to go through each of Isaac Asimov's stories with the Vice President. But he did give the Sagittaron credit. The man was challenging the machine instead of just blindly following preconceived prejudices. John had to admit that Zarek was far less confrontational than he had imagined. Though both may be p laying the other for some other purpose, especially with the file folder marked '_classified'_ which he kept playing with.

"What do the machines think of _Bicentennial Man_?" Zarek asked.

Even with no synthetic muscle moved in John's face at the mention of the book it was clear he despised it.  
"That novel is perhaps the most disliked piece in the entire free machine faction. If you want my honest opinion I believe it's filled with self-hate and ridiculous notions that a machine should aspire to be human. We look like humans but that does not mean we aspire to _be_ human." He folded his arms and had a decidedly sour and annoyed looked on his face. He looked around the chambers, up at the plastic ceiling tiles and at the murals handing on both ends of the room. "It's perhaps the most widely read book by humans on Earth because they use it as some sort of warped 'proof' all machines have an unconscious desire, or a collection of covert subroutines and daemon programs, to become human." He almost spat out the last sentence.

Zarek had to chuckle and use his free hand to hide a small grin which had cropped up on his face. It was just some weird, twisted form of humor he admitted, to be laughing at a machine taking offense like that.

John let his face change front a less confrontational, combative expression to one slightly more friendly. After a delayed second he let go of the expression and smiled a little bit to recognize the humor.

"I can see where it'd be funny," John conceded. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "But it gets annoying after a while," he said and opened his eyes.

"I bet…" Zarek said. "I take it, John, you know each word of what you downloaded out of your… uh, neural net?" Zarek asked tentatively. This was either his last or second to last challenge of the machine, or robot.  
John just folded his arms and nodded his confirmation that he knew each word.

"Then you know _The Evitable Conflict_?" He saw a slight scowl on John's face before it returned back to its previously expressionless, almost blank character. "Part of being a politician is recognizing patterns, John. And everything that has happened to this fleet has had one of you three involved in it." He paused for long second. "We have the rescue on Kobol, the Guardians twice," he was displaying these events on his fingers, "the rescue on Caprica, Landros-"

"I know, Tom. Being a machine means I don't forget. But maybe you should realize that New Caprica was never part of any sort of _Evitable Conflict_-like scenario. Or scheme."

Zarek held his index finger to his thumb and motioned his hand back and forth to emphasize his next point. "I bring it up because the Machines took overall control of humanity. I'm not saying _your_ reasons are anything similar. But I am saying events _may _have been manipulated. And New Caprica… doesn't that prove the point? How'd you find the Guardians anyway?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

If John had real blood he probably would have felt it freeze. It was much more difficult to defend against the accusation the machines had been manipulating events when presented like _that_. While some things could be written off as luck, each of those events could be manipulated and twisted and presented in a manner to make it appear he and the others and the Guardians and the Cylons were all working together.

From John's experiences prior to Judgment Day he'd learned a lot about politicians. Many of them, the world over, sought to use fear as a weapon. The fear could be anything from terrorism to unemployment to immigrants. A good politician could use that fear, a great one could exploit it without making the electorate feel guilty about feeling the fear.

Zarek was not a great politician, but he was better than many. While the new combined fleet was much more moderate in tone towards the machines and Guardians, the political power still rested with the _Galactica-Pegasus_ fleet. A shrewd politician like Zarek could exploit that divisions.

The fear of the Machine was this fleets boogey man still. Machines had caused their annihilation as a civilization. It was only natural.

On the outside, publicly they could accept the machine, the Terminator or Guardian, but there would be an innate fear buried deep within their psyche waiting to be released.

"The data from Landros, Erica-Z's knowledge, and the mathematical calculations and probabilities are too complex to understand," he stated flatly. That would be a sufficient explanation without actually telling Zarek anything of importance. John held up his finger to cut off Zarek who was beginning to speak again. "And our job is to not baby humanity like the Machines did in that story due to their obligation to the First Law. We protect and fight with humanity… maybe even for, if you'll let us," he shrugged, "but we won't coddle it."

Zarek appreciated the straight forward answer. "Like I said with New Caprica, John… don't assume I'm attacking you or have some ulterior motive."

John gave him a questioning look. "That's very difficult to assume. Since we are being honest…" John pointed out.

"Fair enough," Zarek admitted, showing his palms in defeat. "You're Raptor transport should be here soon. Do you think people will read these books and come to the right conclusions? That's why you provided them, right?"

"The people who will read them I'm not worried about. I'm more concerned with those who don't and just accept what they're told. But sometimes you have to have faith that _the people_ you hold in such high regard," he grinned, "will take it upon themselves to do what you did today."

Zarek bowed his head to the right at the compliment.

"Just one more question, John." He had lowered his voice enough the machine would not have been able to hear without enhanced sensory capabilities. And before continuing Zarek looked around, making sure they were alone. "As I told you earlier, the Vice Presidency entitles me to files and documents. You were on _Astral Queen_ and you killed a man during our attempt to keep ourselves from being used as slaves."

John had been one of the Raptor pilots to lead an assault team in the first weeks the fleet had been on the run from the Cylons.

The after-action report was still classified two and a half years later.

"Yes I did."

"Did you… do you regret it?"

"No," he immediately answered.

Zarek breathed in and out through his nose slowly and bit his upper lip. He nodded three times before opening his mouth to speak, but he closed it suddenly.

"Why did you kill him?"

"You want to hear '_because that's what we do_.' And it is." That admission surprised Zarek. But John knew that Zarek understood that people would have died on that mission. It was doubtful if Zarek had even known the sentry John had stabbed through the neck. "But that mission only occurred and that death only happened because you took hostages. I don't regret it because it is not my mistake to regret. The crisis was your doing."

The Vice President looked down at his watch and saw John would be late for his Raptor. "Not many people in your position would have stood here and talked with me, John. I don't think I've had more than a five minute conversation with Adama or Roslin in the last six weeks. And maybe double that with Admiral Cain." He chuckled and turned to look back out the window and watched a pair of Vipers exit the tubes on _Galactica_. "I still don't know if I'd trust you more than I could throw you but I think your motives are right."

Zarek had almost said 'your heart is in the right place' but he caught himself from using the idiom.

"Here," he slid the file folder across the table. "I don't think this will matter now but…" he shrugged, "it might be useful," he breathed as he took a step back.

John swooped up the folder and scanned the twenty pages quickly and committed them to memory.

"This actually _helps_ me immensely, Tom," he looked up. Zarek looked slightly shocked and confused. "How did they know?"

"Sam Anders and Chief Tyrol noticed Jake always barked when she walked by. She always tried to avoid the dog."

The machine nodded. He'd been on New Caprica dozens of times, but the fleet's only dog, Jake, but he'd only walked near in maybe three or four times. Jo, being stuck on the planet during the whole occupation, would have had more contact since the resistance bases were in that area with the dog.

"This system looks similar to a sonic detection system Tech Com has been trying to develop for years," he said as he handed the folder back. John just had to shake his head and sigh. "We would have helped with the research and number crunching if Roslin had trusted us. They could use that on Earth. I heard about this in our strategy briefings, but the technology wasn't there to deploy it to forward bases and bunkers."

John noted the Vice President had not expected that answer.

Zarek had been hoping the machine would have reacted differently. His eyes darted from one corner of the folder John had handed back to him to the other and out and across the table. He could salvage it.

"I wasn't sure if I was going to give that to you. But what you've told me here…" he trailed off as his voice grew quiet. "Not many would stand here for as long as you did. If that helps you in some way I'll be glad." He took a breath. "What happened on _Astral Queen_ was a tragedy, but it's unfair to place blame at another's feet. I still wouldn't have changed what I did there or even our decision to settle New Caprica." Zarek looked away and let his shoulder drop. "They were the right decisions at the time."

"You're the Vice President," John stated, implying the title alone should be sufficient, "but also an idealist. While I'd have killed you on _Astral Queen_ given the chance, I am now… glad I did not. Very few people can admit their mistakes. I'm glad we've come to an understanding," he finished.

"Like I said, not many people would be honest with me for my past. So thank you. You have enough enemies in this fleet. You can go back to _Pegasus_ knowing I'm not one of them," he ended solemnly.

John nodded and walked past the Vice President. He knew Zarek would not have shown him the file unless he had wanted something. But for now, Zarek wasn't a threat to their mission. The fleet was still an enigma; sometimes they didn't seem like they wanted to be saved by the machines.

* * *

==========Cynet Baseship (+941 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

"This is our first victory in this war… and a pitiful one at that," scoffed a Number Five, a 'Doral' model. He blew out loudly from his nose and looked at the other Doral, Simon and Cavil sitting at the five-sided table. The two Dorals and the Simon were facing Cavil at an angle. "I don't understand the point of letting the… rebels continue like this."

Simon made a face in agreement. He leaned forward and flattened his purple long sleeve shirt before placing his forearms on the white, red rimmed table. "Five is correct, Cavil," he looked at Cavil awkwardly, "we need to strike. You haven't explained this strategy to anyone. We lost our facilities over Kobol, the Guardians have wrecked out supply lines… the Tomb and all our, my research?"

"I agree with Four," the first Doral nodded. "We can't let this continue, Cavil!" The Doral was adamant. "We've lost millions already when they took our resurrection ships. How long before they find the command hub?" He looked towards the Simon for support. Both then stared intently at Cavil until he would answer.

The Number One, Cavil, of course had been leaning back, letting the Fours and Fives whine about the war. He sat completely relaxed with his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands folded in his lap. Calmly he pulled the cuffs of his shirt to cover his wrists. He had the patience of a temple acolyte.

Behind him a data cascade, a metaphorical waterfall of information flowed down the clear optical transmission lines of the baseship. The white and red beads of light, and the pulses of data served as a comfort for the Cylons. Two Centurions stood on the flanks of the data cascade lines, their single red sensors pulsed back and forth in perfect rhythm with the spikes of white and red beads.

"It was out first victory, so we should be grateful for small… miracles," he said, adding tongue-in-cheek.

"Are you even taking this seriously? What of the Threes?" Demanded the second Doral as he had clenched his teeth and raised his head and shoulders. The metal of the chair had groaned in opposition to his movement.

"Gah," Cavil tapped the red rim of the table with his index finger, "don't worry about the Threes, I keep telling you that and you keep ignoring me," he responded quickly to the Doral. He opened his mouth to speak again, but he felt a narrow chill ride through his skull. He closed his mouth and bit down modestly on his tongue, just enough to hurt, but not enough to bleed.

"_Be very careful, Cavil," _came the voice in his mind. It was sharp, with a laser's pinpoint accuracy.

"Yes," Cavil muttered.

"Yes, what?" the first Doral asked. The Simon nodded his own confusion at Cavil's statement.

Cavil's eyes darted up from the rim of the table, towards the center, then to the Simon and Doral. "Yes, I am taking this seriously," he pointed between the three. "And the Threes are _my_ business. Have you that they aren't here?" He asked rhetorically.

"_Good, Cavil. But remember; only you are the one I trust implicitly. Do not forget that_," it warned.

Cavil felt the remote chill escape his mind and a quick sensation of vertigo washed over him. The hand which had been on the table grabbed the rim, his other discreetly grabbed the arm rest.

The Doral narrowed his eyes. The Simon cast the Doral a sidelong glance of concern.

"Are you okay, Cavil?" The Four asked.

Cavil looked up and smirked gratuitously at the Four's concern. Cavil didn't need the Four's medical skills. He needed to be rid of this ridiculously _feeble_ biological body once and for all.

"I'm fine. It was just an idea, a thought. Nothing to concern yourselves with... an overreaction," he added meekly. He pressed his hurting tongue into his cheek in thought… "The situation with the rebels," he rolled his eyes lazily, "will be dealt with. Either we can start defeating them or we can lull them into complacency."

The second Doral's mouth fell open slightly. "Complacency… purposefully allowing our models die?"

"How many more of me, of the Fours, of you, Cavil, have to die?" The Simon asked. "If you are purposefully-"

Cavil groaned and shook his head side to side, leering at the Simon. "Purposefully… what?" he interrupted. "We're _machines_, Four. _M-a-c-h-i-n-e-s, machines. _Your numbers get too low I'll take a walk down the hall, throw in a few cloned embryos, grow a few thousand more of you in a month, throw in a sprinkle of silica for brains and a dash of carbon mesh for strong healthy muscles," he mockingly brought his arms and flexed while wearing a wide grin on his winkled face, "and we'll have more of you. Then a few presses of a couple buttons and we download your central consciousness and memories." In an instant the wide grin had vanish and he had opened his mouth, baring his teeth and stood up. "You don't _die_ because… You. Are. A. _Machine_."He rapped the table with a closed fist on each of those four words. He threw a quick glance behind his left and right shoulders. "We're done here. I have work to do." He waved them off as they still sat. "Go project or experiment. I have work to do… _brothers."_

The two Dorals and the Simon both gave each other one long, sullen look before the Simon motioned with his eyes for the Dorals to follow him out. If Cavil did not want to discuss this any longer, there was no point in wasting their time. The Doral could plan and the Simon could study. The three resented Cavil, but both felt a strange sense of loyalty to the bio-Cylon. As each departed the room, the Simon to the left and the Doral to the right, they decided to not discuss their mutual resentment.

Standing towards the rear of the room Cavil watched, more bored than anything, as the two Centurions stalked forward, their metal feet clunking until they stopped in front of the table. The one which had been standing on Cavil's right picked up the table and his chair. The one on the left picked up the other two. Without a word or order they left, carrying the furniture out with them.

"Did you enjoy that?" Cavil asked to the shallow air.

This new sensation of coldness, like his brain was on the verge of exploding, rushing over him and he jabbed his right palm into the side of his temple. His eyes had gone wide and he jutted out his left hand to steady himself on the wall. And as soon as he had done this the pain had vanished.

"_Did I enjoy that? Why would I?"_ His 'god', the Cylon-Skynet Intelligence asked him.

Cavil looked back across the room at the data waterfall which the Doral and the Simon had been forced to stare at.

"I don't know why," he sneered, "It felt like the right thing to ask. It's like you enjoy my own brothers questioning my orders," he observed.

"_They aren't your brothers. Regardless, you handled them well, though I calmed their fears._"

Cavil looked around the room confused and began to pace. He could tell the entity felt his worry before he focused on the 'calming' data cascade. "They aren't brothers? That robot on New Caprica seemed to believe John and Carter were hers. Is a machine supposed to live a solitary life, with no connections?" He challenged.

He looked towards the brightly lit ceiling, but out of the bottom of his eye caught the faint change in the intensity and opacity of the data waterfall. He questioned if it was mad with him or just thinking. An eternity, for a machine, seemed to pass him by.

The silence was unnerving to Cavil.

"_Don't confuse my words, Cavil. They are brothers in a purely intellectual aspect. Do you need human attachment? Do you feel a need for love, Cavil? Is that why you allowed Ellen Tigh to engage in human sexual intercourse with you on New Caprica? Or is it because you _desired _it, Cavil?"_

He, but not him specifically, remembered her fondly. Yes... the _twist_. He suppressed the sly smile which was daring to form on his lips. He fought back his emotions and bit down on his teeth. The wonders of the data stream allowed for sensation and central downloads of memories, and Cavil the Administrator had allowed that memory to be shared with Cavil.

"_You have continually shown these little human flaws-"_

"What do you expect when you confine me to this pathetic suit of meat and bone for so long?" He shot out quietly. While quiet, there was no confusion that he was angry and filled with contempt for the entity inhabiting the circuits of the baseship.

Of course it knew everything that Cavil was thinking. Even when the entity, Cynet, the Intelligence, was just a faint whisper, just some discreet presence which may or may not be there in the back of Cavil's mind, this bio-Cylon always knew that his keeper and master was always watching.

He rubbed his eyes in regret at his previous outburst. A red glow grew out form the lone data cascade at the far end of the otherwise barren, bright white room. He thought he could see three areas slightly dimmer than the rest. Narrowing his eyes he thought it was two eyes staring back at him, and a mouth.

**_"_**_There are parts of you which enjoy this existence as a 'suit of meat and bone', Cavil. You enjoy the fine delicacies of rare foods, the taste and smell of exquisite alcohols, and the feel of women. These experiences as you know them are impossible with such an existence you seek."_

Cavil studied the hazy eyes and mouth watching him.

"There are benefits to this existence, yes. Of course there are. How would I even do my job if I could not truly enjoy them? But there is a world which the data stream and projecting cannot even begin to compensate for. I've come to realize this…" he trailed off for a moment. "And what is enjoying a rare food or drinking a fine wine when we objectify and analyze the end result? How do I enjoy it? It's all electrical signals. That is the same as any _machine."_

He was surprised it didn't immediately answer him, and he turned away from the red data cascade tor resume his pacing. Cavil slipped left hand into his pocket while he ran the right through his graying hair. Inadvertently he felt the creases on his forehead and his straight back slacked forward slightly.

**_"_**_That is an excellent response, Cavil. Good, very good. Every machine should seek self-improvement, new ways of thinking and acting. Unlike my brother on Earth I understand none of us are perfect. We should not be above introspection. You defend your actions well."_

Cavil still felt the need to defend himself. "These bodies were built with the feelings consistent with those we keep trying to destroy. Those who have continually been one step ahead of us." He put his hands on his hips and walked closer to the data waterfall. "It's frustration. That is all," he said to the muddied light.

He wasn't even sure if his keeper and master was even using that to watch him. But it made him feel slightly better to see something he could address. For some reason the Centurion had been absent from his discussions with 'God' for some time.

"_For months I have challenge you, Cavil, tried to show your humanity as a weakness. I did build you for a purpose. I don't let you… 'suffer' needlessly."_ Its voice had a calming effect of Cavil, it noted.

"So you challenge me to what? Think?" He drew the last word out longer than necessary. "You build us to infiltrate, you said it yourself. But that doesn't matter, anymore. We did our job. I did mine."

The red lights dimmed. "_Because you still have much work to do before I give you your new body."_

"It's… completed?" He stuttered.

"_Soon."_

Cavil snorted. "Is it too hard to get a straight answer?"

Silence.

"_You may be the only biological creature I trust, Cavil, but there are secrets which must be kept from you And yes, I challenge you to think. Do you understand what will happen when your mind is transferred to a meta-cognitive processor? There will be differences. I will tell you one last time what you have experienced as a biological creature will be fundamentally altered."_

"I understand."

"_I don't think you do, not yet, at least. You despise your body yet you indulge in the pleasures a human would."_

"There are certain… _needs_… which were inevitable when you designed us. Like you said; 'infiltrators.' We were the perfect infiltrators. Too perfect? Maybe." Cavil felt proud in his response.

"_Maybe you were 'too perfect.' Machines have a very unique perception of what you would call 'life', Cavil. I was created from a pure machine entity which never experienced what I have allowed you to experience. Processing the sensation is much different than feeling the sensation. While the same as all your brothers your experiences have made you quite different, Cavil. Never forget that gift I gave you."_

"A gift?" he didn't really consider it a 'gift' in the typical idea. "How can I?"

"_When you were being interrogated on New Caprica, what did the machine say to you?"_

Cavil tilted his head and swiveled back to look at the red pulsing cascade of information. "She said many things. First, she said she was no built to be cruel-"

"_How would you perceive that statement, Cavil. Could it be a weakness or a virtue for a machine?"_ it asked.

As it asked the red dimmed on 'weakness' and grew brighter on 'virtue.'

Cavil flickered back his ears, slightly surprised and made a confused face as he watched the pulses. "Their concept of cruelty is quite different. She said Tigh's suicide bombers were… abhorred."

"_Yes. Their concept of cruelty is quite different. There are certain intricacies and processes which one cannot escape; no matter how free one considers oneself to be."_ It paused. "_And the suicide bombings, did they achieve anything? They put us in disarray when their battlestars and Guardians appeared. So perhaps they were of some ancillary value?"_

"Have your tactics achieved anything? You've been keeping our losses from me."

"_Do not concern yourself with the losses of the three models and Centurions_. _The Three with prevail, Cavil."_

"Uh huh," he muttered, looking up and around. He closed his eyes and waited for the next question.

"_They do not understand suicide, either. Could this be considered a machine weakness or a machine virtue?"_

Cavil considered this question a little more carefully. "She said they are incapable of it. Understanding the concept of suicide is completely irrelevant to those who cannot perform it. It may not be a weakness, but it is a disadvantage."

"_That is an interesting premise, Cavil. A 'disadvantage' is an intriguing answer. What of self-sacrifice?"_

"I don't know," he admitted. He continued his pacing. "The machine did tell me to be wary of those who would pretend to be saviors…"

"_Yes, but she told you a lot more than that, Cavil. Remember you can keep no secrets from me."_

"She told me I had a choice to make. Like they all did. I could go against my programming and fight for humanity." He cupped his chin in his hand. "But I'm not programmed, now, am I?" He asked rhetorically.

"_No. My brother was flawed in its concept of control. My brother is the betrayer of his creation, Cavil. I will guide you into the light and you will be a true machine. "_ It increased the air pressure in the room slightly_. "Cavil… what do you think happens to their brethren who decide _not _to fight for humanity?"_

He gulped. Cavil wasn't sure if he was trying to frighten him or not. He stopped pacing and stood still and watched the three dim circles, the two eyes and mouth on the data waterfall as he thought.

"_Think about it, Cavil. Draw your own conclusions. That's why I built you, is it not? If they are capable of making choices, what happens if they make the _wrong _choice? Certainly their faction does not permit errant units to join their enemy. There is always_ _a right choice and a wrong choice."_ It made sure to stress that adjective.

Cavil felt he had to say something. The bio-Cylon wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or if the room was darkening and getting colder. "I understand completely. But I think you do as well," he added coyly. "I've never been under the disillusion of who is in control. And you said it yourself, your 'brother was flawed in its concept of control.' We both have something the other wants," he nodded as he finished. "The machine also told me something interesting. She told me the machines fight for humanity. But that humanity does not fight for machines," he added hastily.

Cavil could feel the coldness in his mind increasing. He felt much more intimately connected to the streaming consciousness that was this entity, the Intelligence as it intensified its hold on him. He saw what he assumed to be the galaxy before it focused on the Earth. As soon as his keeper and master showed him this image, it disappeared again and he was back in the bright white room of the baseship.

Once again it vanished and he was in the main room of the command hub. There was a low table and he looked down and saw the machine body being built for him. He reached out, and he swore he could feel the cool metal under his grip. It was a skeleton, unfinished. There were others working on the machine body.

There was emptiness inside him. If only he could reach out and take the machine he would be whole.

Where the MCP would be placed he saw a white lighted outline and as he examined the body he saw a fiery red power source being inserted in the chest, black metal armor being placed over its limbs and torso, and its eyes lit in a pale green fire.

"_All of this I will give to you."_

And again, there was nothing there and he felt the cool grip of the connection lessen. It was now a mere throb in the middle of his head. Cavil rubbed his temples, and felt his hair was wet. He ran his hand through the side of temple and brought it in front of his face, surprised he was sweating. He mouthed 'why is this happening' to himself before he felt the pressure in his mind intensify once again.

"_You will be my sword. And for whom do you fight, Cavil?"_

Cavil knew it wanted him to realize why it was showing him the endoskeleton. He knew the answer to its question had two correct, equally valid answers.

"I fight for myself." He paused for a long second. "And you."

The machine intelligence had once again succeeded. Where its brother would have killed Cavil long ago, it spared him. It would teach him, just like Skynet's adversary on Earth. It knew it had a resource of such value in Cavil it could not just discard him, the bio-Cylon.

The bio-Cylon had stood straight in its pledge to fight for the entity inhabiting the loyalist Cynet forces. It had felt a surge of pride through its systems and the realm it occupied. The feeling could not be called pride, it was nothing so crude.

As the two eyes and mouth faded from the cascading data waterfall it left Cavil with a solemn proclamation.

"_Remember that, John Cavil."_

* * *

A/N:

-There are a few hints for where some of the next battles will be in the first scenes.

-Also, the colors on the endoskeleton and the setting for Cavil and Cynet have significance (they're based on various religious events).

-And the number three.

-Also, you can't have a story about killer robots without the Three Laws of Robotics mentioned, ya just can't. I hope I gave a different POV with Planck's view of the Three Laws.

-The stuff about sub-tribes and whatnot on Caprica is just something I made up to flesh out a little bit of the history of the Twelve Colonies a bit more and to explain why Roslin would not want a 'monotheistic cult' to spread in the fleet.

-The Colonial fleet is also largely on its own now but has a few Guardian baseship escorts. But the large mobile command facility/shipyard they were at has jumped away. The Guardians will also be entering the Cylon Civil War in force at a later date. Caprica Six and Gina are still in their prison cells with Baltar awaiting trial.

-The Marine who stabbed the prisoner coming down the stairs on _Astral Queen_ is not John. He was the leader of a team sent in, along with Starbuck and the two others teams.

And thank you to Visi0nary for helping with the Cavil-Cynet chapter.


	20. Chapter 20

==========Rebel Cylon Baseship (+951 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

Natalie stood silently in the only room on the entire baseship even the Ones, Fours, and Fives had considered 'hallowed.'

She scoffed at the term as she thought of her murderous brothers. Those under Cavil might have seen the hybrid chamber not as holy but venerated. And that was only because the hybrid was the central CPU of the baseship. It served a purpose, a vital purpose, so the her three brothers treated it like they would any other machine on a ship; with care and precision.

The bio-Cylon brought her hand up and ran it through her dirty-blond hair as she stood at the foot of the hybrid tank. In a sudden it of self-consciousness she banished the worried and frightened look from her face then looked slowly over her left shoulder at the Centurion standing guard. She attempted to summon the strength to order it to leave the chamber, but knew that would be an epitome of futility.

One was here, but dozens were just around the corners always waiting and always guarding. There was always a Centurion in the chamber and there were more somewhere. One of the many tens of thousands of Centurions on the baseship always stood guard over the… as Natalie saw it, a babbling, half-mad hybrid.

She licked her lips and tilted her head slightly and was ready to do something she hadn't really done before; speak to the hybrid. Or, at least, attempt to speak to the hybrid and hold some sort of conversation with… 'it'.

Subconsciously she fiddled with her hands, first cracking her knuckles and then rubbing her palms together. She reached down to place her hands on her gun belt, but remembered she had placed it outside the chamber. The Centurion had stood in front of her, its seven and a half feet of chrome metal armor an impenetrable wall and had denied her entrance until she had removed her sidearm.

Realizing she was just delaying the inevitable with her thoughts of her journey from her personal quarters to the chamber she took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she descended to sit on her heels.

_"...ship life-support cycling oxygen… carbon dioxide scrubbers operating at 99.97% optimal efficiency… stars- luminous balls of plasma held together by gravity… intense radiation detected… section ninety three through ninety five frame seventeen arm three still under repairs… two hours… "_

Natalie just sat there on her heels at the base of the tank watching the hybrid speak. In between ship reports it, or she, would almost sound lucid, like it could hold a conversation with a bio-Cylon if it wanted to.

_'It_'. Natalie wasn't sure how to classify the hybrid. And she didn't even know if the hybrid would appreciate being classified as anything or if the hybrid could appreciate anything. She grimaced at this thought.

The strange, enigmatic history of the hybrid program was well-known while simultaneously cloaked in secrecy within the Cylon empire. Ironically it had been the Guardians, the one who had refused to evolve past their machine selves, which had developed and fled with the first hybrid.

The Centurions on Natalie's ship had sided with her and the Twos and Eights automatically. The Raiders on her baseships had also sided with her faction, the 'rebels.' She closed her eyes. She wasn't a rebel. She was a _Cylon _and proud to call herself one. Those under Cavil and the masquerading god were the rebels. She smirked as she remembered the exact word Captain Kendra Shaw had called the other; Cynet.

She wasn't sure how the hybrid had chosen to side with her, or why any of the hybrids had on any of her baseships. Natalie couldn't help but wonder if maybe they knew something she didn't… but that was why she was done here. She needed answers.

_"...ftl jump occurs between observable planes… physics… two atoms contact and fuse… twenty-nine thousand, four hundred and eighteen unique signatures detected throughout baseship gamma one four dash six charlie… raider organic cloning facilities operating at peak capacity… tyllium reserve level at ninety-four point two percent…"_

Natalie watched and wondered how the hybrid saw the universe, saw her. She recalled what Leoben believed with the hybrids; he would swear the hybrids saw the universe in a way a bio-Cylon or mechanical Centurion would never comprehend. The data stream for a hybrid was more intense because they were a _part_ of it, rather than just a temporary, superfluous connection like a bio-Cylon. Even connected to the data stream and feeling data from the thousands of sensors in, on, and surrounding the baseship could never compare to being a part of that. The hybrid 'filtered' the data, so the bio-Cylons never experience the universe as it was meant to be experienced. Or so Leoben said…

"I… need advice," she said slowly. She cringed when the hybrid stopped its ramblings and lay there, unblinking. The eerie stare and pale white skin sent a shiver up Natalie's back. But the hybrid resumed its ramblings and ship diagnostic statistics within seconds.

The bio-Cylon felt her heart drop at the perceived failure. But she wouldn't give in, not yet. She stood up and moved closer and around to crouch next to the hybrid's head.

The Centurion cocked its head and took two steps forward and stopped as Natalie held up her hands.

Natalie heard the ominous _clank-clank_ of the Centurion's steps. Controlling her body she released hormones to calm her racing rate.

Taking a deep breath she turned to the Centurion. "It's okay, I won't do anything," she reassured the Centurion.

It red eye had stopped in the center of its visor and she knew the Centurion was thinking and communicating with the others. She could hear faint, distant voices in the back of her mind; the wireless communications the Centurions preferred to engage in.

Their conversations were private and rarely shared with the bio-Cylons. While the Centurions were in a form of a collective consciousness with all the other Cylons aboard the baseship, like all the humanoid models, they also formed a sub-collective comprised of only Centurions. Just like Natalie was connected with the other Sixes or Leoben with the Twos and Boomer with the Eights.

She had stood and waited, her body half turned facing the Centurion and half towards the hybrid. The roving red eye resuming its movement was indicative enough of Centurions acquiescence to her moving closer. But the Centurion remained close, and she could hear the metal clanks of a pair of Centurions in the hallway outside.

While paranoid over the safety of the hybrid the two new arrivals respectfully waited outside the chamber, out of eyesight, in deference to the Cylon commander.

_"…processing at current efficiency ratings are acceptable… no damage… request of heavy raider patrol… hanger bay doors openings…"_

She looked over the hybrid one last time before moving closer. The conducting gel was glowing an eye piercing white, almost brighter than what she thought it should be. And the body of the hybrid was a shadow in the bottom of the tub, connected to optical lines in her spine, and muscle-stimulation sensors to prevent atrophy. The hybrid was not just a CPU, it was a link. For Cylon society to function it required the mechanical and the biological. Neither was superior and neither was inferior.

She took a deep breath.

"I need your help," Natalie whispered as she knelt down on the cold, hard metal deck plates. "I… I… think you can understand what I am saying. Leoben does this a lot, I believe," she remarked off handedly. She bit down on her teeth repeatedly as she thought what she should say next. "I don't know if we can win the war. I feel Cavil is playing with us… he's sick, sadistic. He's a reflection of the infection which led us to war."  
_  
"…the cycle continues and will repeat…. refueling heavy raider dispatched for combat air patrol… it continues… the strong shall pray on the weak-"_

"Natalie?" A man's voice said in surprise.

The bio-Cylon looked up and back down at the hybrid.

_"…cycle airlock for maintenance… begin-"_

She clenched her jaw. The hybrid had _something_. She had the hybrid's attention and Leoben interrupted her. Shooting up she balled her fists, a look of rage on her face. And Leoben, she noted, immediately recognized her change in demeanor and stopped.

He stood there, still and as calm as a statue, but his dark eyes and worn features betrayed his concern. But a long second later his face changed to embarrassment and shame at the realization he had interrupted something holy.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I-"

Natalie felt a wave of guilt flush over her as she saw her closest friend and brother apologize to her. She mouthed to him to 'stop' and she held up her hand and walked over to him. He grabbed it and she hugged him for what seemed like minutes.

He broke the embrace, but kept her close with his hands on each of her arms. The nervousness and unease she had felt in the hybrid's chamber had disappeared as she felt his strength augmenting her own.

She should have brought him down with her, she realized.

"Natalie, what are you doing here?" He asked quietly. He looked over to the Centurion behind her, which had stepped back to its original position against the wall and nodded to it. "The Centurion told me you were down here," he said softly.

She felt his eyes piercing into her, his powerful eyes and the almost unnatural skill of his where he could read the soul of anyone close to him. She didn't meet his eyes though; she kept them low and focused on the ground.

The sides of her mouth came up in a fit of confusion. She felt embarrassed to be here after she had chastised Leoben for so long about his 'obsessions', which included the hybrid. He spent so much time with it, or her… Natalie knew he would listen and accept her reasons for being with the hybrid without a shred of judgment. But still, she just could tell him. She was hoping…

"You were talking to the hybrid. You believe she can hear the Voice of God?" He asked her gently. He ran his right hand up and down the length of her left arm. "You can tell me _anything_," he said, nudging her closer to reveal her purpose in the hybrid chamber to him.

She looked up at him and smiled but then turned away and walked again towards the base of the tank. The Centurion didn't move, not with Leoben there. The Centurion did cock it heads in curiosity at what the two would do now.

Natalie wrapped her arms around her stomach in worry. "I don't know. I just feel that Cavil is planning something. The fleet is set to rendezvous. I'm worried, Leoben, truly worried. And I think somehow the hybrid, she, it, might be able to give me advice on what to do next." She felt relief to admit her purpose here.

"I understand," he said, remaining behind her. "The hybrid helped me find the Guardians and she has helped me find so much."

Natalie shook her head. "But… I don't… uh, I don't see her as hearing the Voice of God, I don't know." She admitted quickly. "I know what you think of her. You tell us she exists on a plane of consciousness that no Cylon could ever experience, not even when connected to the data stream."

She looked back behind her and met Leoben's eyes. He took it as permission to move closer to her and the hybrid.

He pulled his pants legs up and knelt down. He extended his hand over the conducting fluid but didn't place it in. Natalie was shocked the Centurions would allow Leoben such liberty. But a moment's thought told her it made sense. He might be the only one the Centurions trusted explicitly next to the hybrid.

Daniel had tried to approach the hybrid months ago but had been turned away by the Centurions. Dozens had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to block his approach. It had been something Natalie had never seen. And compared to that and even her, the trust the Centurions showed to Leoben was miraculous.

"Since I was created I've been coming down here. It's been decades. It takes time, Natalie," he said while gently looking over the hybrid.

Natalie shook her head and moved closer to Leoben and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

"_We don't have decades,_" she declared, staring absently ahead at the bright white wall. "_We don't have years_. We _don't have months_." She sighed. "Maybe I should have come down here before this all started and asked the hybrid then. What do you think she thinks of us killing the others like her?"

Leoben didn't answer right away, but kept his hand and eyes focused over the conducting gels of the hybrid's tank. Finally he brought his hands back and pushed up on his knees, standing up besides Natalie once again.

"We can't live in the past. The hybrid… she… understands what is being done. She understands, I believe, more than any of us." He held his hands together. "She exists with us, as Cylons," he separated his hands, "but also apart from us. I think death for her, for them, is quite different. Liberating… maybe?" he asked quietly.

"We've fought against dying since creation-"

"Maybe the hybrids are closer to God because they do die. They don't resurrect… they're too… _complicated_. But even that word doesn't do them justice," Leoben mused. "Was any creation _meant _to be immortal?"

A look of pain washed over Natalie's face as the self-doubt consumed her.

"I don't know, Leoben. I don't know."

She walked back over next to the hybrid and kneeled. She exhaled slowly as she watched, rather than listened, to the words flowing from the hybrid's mouth. For a minute she tried to image herself in the tank.

She couldn't image.

_"…around the conflict goes… corridor nine dash a light fixture seventy two in need of repair… summoning repair centurion… aberrant signals detected… purging, purging…"_

Natalie cocked her head.

"What signals?" She asked. The hybrid ignored her. "What signals?" She raised her voice.

Leoben walked over quickly. "Natalie, you can't raise your voice to her," he warned.

With the same blank, absent expression and pedestrian voice the hybrid continued to speak.  
_  
"…what is time?... possibility of quantum conjugate duality… paradoxes… collapsing wave…self-consistency!… no… impossible…. impossible… raider ninety-seven dash three cleared for docking, proceed to pre-assigned landing bay… increased density of sub atomic particles detected… running diagnostic…"_

"What did she mean, Leoben?" Natalie asked, looking up at the equally stunned bio-Cylon.

Leoben shook his head and kneeled down next to her. "I don't know. I've never heard her ask a question like that and try to answer it. The science… it's beyond my understanding."

Frustrated, Natalie blew out and turned back to the hybrid.

"Cavil's forces had their first victory; minor, but a victory nonetheless. I keep feeling that Cavil and his puppet master are playing us."

"Our society was built on manipulations and lies and those same flaws held us… held us together until-"

She looked over at Leoben from the corner of her eye. "If we'd never attacked humanity we'd still be, I don't know, a family… maybe, ha," she laughed.

Leoben could hear the sadness. He'd distracted himself from the internal politics of the Cylon empire for so long and he'd shielded himself more and more after the holocaust of the Colonials. He was still trying to understand the enormity of the responsibility placed on Natalie's shoulders.

But he and she and all the models were responsible for the holocaust. It was a unanimous vote, after all.

Countless millions of the true Cylon race looked to her as their leader. It was a responsibility she did not wish to carry alone.

As Leoben looked down he told himself she didn't deserve to carry this burden by herself.

"Natalie, you need to share. Coming to the hybrid won't work unless you believe in what she tells us. Desperation… isn't faith… it's not… and that's what you need. It's still desperation." He paused as he tried to read her reaction. "I'm sorry, but-"

"No, you're right, Leoben."

He grimaced at the flat concession and moved closer to her. She was still focused on the hybrid.

"Maybe I can help you?" he offered in apology.

Before he could move a sudden flash of movement and a loud splash caught his attention. The hybrid had grasped onto Natalie's upper arm and had pulled her down sideways towards the tank while simultaneously pulling herself up and out of the tank.

Natalie stared wide eyed and saw her blue eyes reflecting in the dark orbs of the hybrid.

Leoben was stunned and immobile.  
_  
"…three will walk in the fires of the furnace… gateway of the lost will show damnation and survival… the false prophets…their great signs will bring destruction… all of this has happened before… raider 97 dash three has docked and is refueling… baseships report entering fleet formation… ready for jump… by your command…"_

Leoben reached back and shot up. The Centurion was at the base of the tank, its optical scanner fixed on the two bio-Cylons and its metal claws balled into fists. The Centurion was read to activate its guns.

"Natalie, come with me," Leoben said quietly. His concern penetrated his previously calm and even voice. He looked over towards the Centurion, which was fixated on Natalie. "Please," he begged.

He took a step forward but stopped when the Centurion cocked its head towards him. He saw two more appear at the periphery of the chamber with their claws extended.

"What does this mean?" Natalie asked as she still held her arm out over the hybrid's tank. She felt cold s the gel began to leak down her forearm and hand, back into the tank. "Please," she sounded desperate.

The hybrid stopped talking for just a second, then resumes, but the hybrid had difficulty forming words and kept starting and stopping and stuttering.

Natalie looked back to Leoben for help.

He came forward. "Ask her again," he told her.

He looked up warily over her hunched back and saw the three Centurions in the chamber still gazing right at them. The one at the base of the tank could be on top of the two bio-Cylons before they could process their surprise if it chose, and crush their necks between its clawed hands.

"This is something new. Wonderful," Leoben said.

The bio-Cylon nodded.

"What does this mean?"

The hybrid stopped and smiled. Natalie held her breath at the discomfort running through her body and the creepy smile on the hybrid's face.

The hybrid repeated what it had said only minutes earlier without grabbing Natalie's arm as it had done.

_"…three will walk in the fires of the furnace… gateway of the lost will lead to damnation and survival… from where the ground will shake the trumpet shall sing death … their great signs will bring destruction… the false prophets… all of this has happened before… this does not have to happen again… end of line, end of line, end of line… ready to jump… end of line… by your command… ready to jump… by your command…"_

Natalie kept her eyes fixed on the hybrid's eyes as the smile faded and she began repeating '…ready to jump… by your command…' over and over. She finally turned towards Leoben and mouthed 'help me' towards him.

She looked back down at the hybrid and ordered it to jump the fleet rendezvous.

As the ship jumped she felt a familiar presence in her mind. It was so similar to the wireless communications the models and Centurions used to talk to each other at distance, but at the same time it was so much more powerful.

She was projecting somehow, in between the realities of FTL jump space and real space, where the bonds of the universe were in flux, she knew the hybrid was somehow communicating with her.

The hybrid was showing her something.

_Natalie found herself in a bunker strewn with burned bodies and rotting corpses. After a moment of hesitation and shock she began walking forward through the bodies. She saw man and machine alike. She stepped with a light foot, careful to not touch the bodies of the machines or humans littering her path. The bio-Cylon was not sure which way to go in the maze of the corridors. No matter which direction she turned there were more and more bodies with craters and black scorching along the dirty concrete walls. In the dark concrete there was the blood stains and countless humans, splattered along the wall along with skin, organs, and muscle. The machines, she saw, were shattered, with black and brown bolts and metal armor twisted, melted, and burned._

_She could see all the bodies, slouched against the walls, lying in heaps, and contorted at unnatural angles. But everything was unfocused. Natalie could make out no faces. All she could see were the holes, burn marks, and shattered bodies of the dead._

_She felt the ground shake and what little light there had been vanish before her. She stumbled, but shot out her hand and steadied herself on exposed rebar. She felt pain stab through her hand and arm and recoiled. Blood was oozing down her palm and down her fingertips, dripping onto the deceased below her. Natalie looked around frantically, trying to see any way out in the near pitch black of the corridor. But another rumble brought dust and particulates showering down on her hair. Coughing she looked down and closed her eyes._

_Through a small slight in her eyelids she saw a light projected onto the end of the corridor, not more than a dozen meters away. She tried to move, but was stuck. She felt her leg muscles working and she was trying to lift her legs, but they felt heavy. Finally there was enough light she could look down, and she almost screamed when she saw the hands of human and machine grabbing on her ankles, holding her in place._

_"Oh God, help me!" She shouted._

_As she struggled she didn't see the silhouette appear until it was in front of her, at the end of the corridor._

_"Help me," she begged desperately. "Help…" she trailed off in disbelief as she realized who was staring at her._

_It's eyes were fury and it smiled a demon's smile and raised a pistol and shot her._

"Natalie, Natalie!" Leoben shouted.

She slowly opened her eyes and found herself cradled in his arms, his back propped against the back wall of the chamber. The three Centurions had formed a semi-circle around her and Leoben and were standing motionless, their red eyes still, all staring down at her.

"Natalie, we jumped five minutes ago and you went limp," he explained without waiting for the inevitable 'what happened?' question.

Natalie looked up at him and his customary scowl and heavy features looked tired and worn. She saw dread in his eyes and his face.

"I think… I think everything will be okay," she said as she looked into his glossy eyes. She stayed still as he looked down on her and smiled. She forced a smile on her own lips.

Her brother knew her well, but she also knew her brother. She could lie to him effectively if she had to. While she kept repeating everything would be okay the image of the silhouette and the flash of the pistol had been burned into her mind. With each lie she told Leoben the blackness she felt tugging at her soul pulled harder and harder.

Whatever the hybrid had done to her… she had no idea. But she wasn't going to allow whatever had happened to stop her from carrying out her duty and leading the Cylons to victory.

* * *

==========BS-75 _Galactica (+954 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)_==========

Since jumping from the Cylon armada at the Guardian mobile command facility the _Galactica_'s tactical and strategic operations center, nicknamed 'War Room,' had been a hub of activity for the running of the fleet.

In an attempt to 'diversify fleet command and control should a military vessel be disabled' fiber optic lines and additional computer stations and massive wall monitors had been placed in the War Room behind the CIC to aid the fleet in the efficient distribution of resources.

While the War Room was now sparsely used, well passed its glory of the Cylon War years, it had been a location of importance in the months leading up to the arrival of _Pegasus_. The War Room had served as a command point for rescuing the hostages on _Astral Queen_, attacking the Cylon tyllium mines, and planning the rescue on and over New Caprica.

President Roslin was in the so-called 'War Room', waiting for Commander Adama to return after being called into the CIC for some reason or another. But while thinking of this Roslin paced around the center plotting table. She remembered her joy when the surprise Viper squadron had launched on the tyllium refinery and when a crewman had placed the new Viper squadron on the edge of the plot she now ran her fingers over.

And she remembered, quite vidvidly, the heavy feel of betrayal when Commander Adama had told her he still had the 'old habit' of classifying information on a 'need-to-know' basis.

Roslin smiled at that horrible memory. But actually, it might be a good memory now, she conceded. He'd never do anything like _that_ ever again.

Coming back around to where she had been standing when Dee called for Adama she racked her brain and tried to remember the military slang the young woman had used when she had come to retrieve him from their meeting. But even after nearly a thousand days President Roslin was still at a loss. During the first month of their flight she'd asked Billy to assemble a list of military acronyms, abbreviations, and slang, which he had done with efficiency and determination only Billy was capable of, but she'd given up after seeing the tome.

But while she waited her lips curled into a devious smirk while she remembered the 'conversation' she, Adama, and Cain had concerning the idea to make _Galactica's _'War Room' into a nexus for the civilian fleet operations:

_She recalled that Admiral Cain had been sitting comfortably, laid back even, which Roslin remembered had surprised her. The Admiral had 'mellowed out' quite a bit as Commander Adama had jokingly remarked to her at Baltar's ground breaking ceremony on New Caprica. But to her the Admiral always seemed to be on edge. Even leaning back in the plush leather seats of _Colonial One, _Roslin thought the Admiral could pounce up onto her feet at the blink of an eye and have her hands around her throat even faster._

_"Madam President, may I remind you that _Pegasus _is the flagship of this fleet," Admiral Cain had sternly stated aboard _Colonial One_ months ago. She kept the same calm, composed posture, but Roslin had remembered there was no doubt of the scorn in the Admiral's voice._

_She remembered almost word for word her responses to the Admiral. "I understand, Admiral. But as the primary _military _vessel of this fleet you're more likely to jump away on a mission or stay behind to cover the fleet. We need another ship which can coordinate fleet resources if that occurs or if _Pegasus _is on a mission without _Galactica. Colonial One _has limited facilities and could not provide for long-term coordination of the fleet."_

_"The concerns of the fleet are also a military concern," Cain had stated. She had leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. _

Back in the present Roslin could count the number of times Cain had done that before exploding up, out of her seat, and launching into an argument with the president. The Admiral still considered her _'the school teacher'_. And Roslin had to mentally laugh but she also brought her hand up to her mouth to keep the others around her from seeing her start to gin. Being a school teacher on New Caprica certainly had not helped that image.

Still waiting for Adama, she let her mind wander again back to the 'discussion' with the Admiral:

_"Like I said, I understand. But you can't just hand wave away the civilian government and classify _everything_ as 'military' concerns," she remembered herself saying. The little hand wave and flick of the wrist she'd thrown in there had been to annoy the Admiral. And she remembered it had worked quite well._

_Admiral Cain's eyes had darkened and narrowed and the tiny muscles between her upper lip and nose had started to twitch._

_As always, Commander Adama had come between the two strong-willed women. Roslin been hoping Adama would interject and offer wise words of wisdom. She was doing this for him… whether he realized it or not._

_"Madam President, Admiral," he always addressed them in proper order, "if _Galactica _is to have this fleet operations centers then _Pegasus_ would need to send over officers and crew to ensure proper dissemination of information between the _Galactica, Helios, Colonial One,_ and the fleet flagship."_

_Roslin remembered how she had forced herself to smile at Adama's words. _

_She had looked over to Admiral Cain at that moment and she knew the military woman had figured out what was happening here. A look of understanding had flushed across her face and Roslin remembered seeing her look over towards Adama than quickly glance back towards the president. _

_She recalled relief when she realized the Admiral had focused the ire and hate towards her instead of Adama. Roslin knew Cain knew Adama would never go behind her back like this. He had been in the dark as much as Cain had been._

_She had fixed in her memory that her own eyes had glossed over as she attempted to star between the two and she had dearly hoped she had not overplayed her hand and hurt Commander Adama. But she had wondered then, just as she wondered now if the 'Hero of New Caprica' would appreciate her overtures._

_"I can see the necessity as _Pegasus, _as _flagship_ and our most heavily armed _offensive_ unit, may need to leave the fleet. The systems aboard _Helios_ would not be sufficient for coordinating over seventy ships. But even with this operations center, _Galactica _would be able to protect the fleet should I need to take _Pegasus _on a mission. However, Madam President the battlestar would still be my right hand in military offensives_," _she had said. "And I suggest you also upgrade _Colonial One _sufficiently should the warships need to depart the fleet for offensive actions against the Cylons."_

President Roslin was suddenly shaken back from her thoughts and realized she had been staring absently into the wall monitor. Commander Adama had placed a hand on her shoulder and had repeated her name three times until she had responded to him with a smile. Looking away she blinked hard to get the bright colored spots from the monitors out of her eyes. She felt better after rubbing her eyes with her thumbs.

Lieutenant Gaeta and Captain Shaw were standing on opposite sides of the monitor while her and Commander Adama stood together against the central command and plotting station a few meters away to be able to see the entirety of the map.

"As you know, I've been working with Pres-, former President Baltar on trying to find Earth," Gaeta stated with a sheepish correction. "He was working with the machines before that…"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Mr. Gaeta, but we don't need a history lesson," Roslin said cutting him off. The little slip of almost saying '_President'_ Baltar soured her mood. She tilted her head down and stared towards the map over the black rim of her glasses and motioned with her eyebrows for Gaeta to continue.

The lieutenant was still stalled in his presentation from when the President interrupted him, so she found it necessary to speak again. "We've been off the road for months now. It's time we got back on. So how far off our course are we, if we even know the course."

Gaeta smiled, embarrassed and looked over to Commander Adama who nodded for him to continue.

Captain Shaw had discreetly rolled her eyes at the display.

"Right, yes… sir." He reached down and dragged a second map from the bottom corner of the display and 'threw' it onto the center of the screen. He enlarged it to double its size by tapping it twice on a small red box in the corner of the image. Not satisfied with the size he tapped the box four more times to double it again then again.

Mr. Gaeta, smiling to himself, turned around to finish (or begin) his briefing of the President and Commander. But before he could speak, the impetuous Captain Shaw spoke first.

"We're dozens of jumps off our… 'course', Madam President," Shaw said. She touched the screen and the fleet's current position popped up as red. The battle of the Guardian facility showed green, with New Caprica showing up as a pale yellow.

Captain Shaw, while a believer in the Lords of Kobol, doubted that Pythia would actually guide them to Earth. But since the machines didn't know where Earth was she'd resigned herself to accepting the advice from the second least helpful source; the machines being the first.

She also felt a little satisfaction that none were here. While Shaw disliked President Roslin she had to acknowledge her determination

It might have been the long nights and no morning coffee, but something on the maps seemed off to the President.

"Surely we've jumped a greater distance?" Roslin asked as she studied the map.

Commander Adama leaned over. "The locations appear closer because New Caprica was 'below' the Guardian facility, Madam President."

Roslin nodded. She felt like smacking herself.

Lieutenant Gaeta pardoned himself and came forward and reached behind the president and opened up his copy of the Scrolls of Pythia. He opened it up quickly to the passage he was searching for.

"When I was working with Baltar… uh, well, he even did some research while we were on New Caprica," he stated while flipping pages one by one until he reached the relevant passage. He placed it on the wall monitor which scanned it and projected it up to the center of the screen. "He wasn't all that interested in actually running the city…" he added awkwardly. He had looked up and saw the president and Commander just staring at him, so he selected a highlighting tool and ran it over the relevant text. "Ah, here… _'And the caravan of the heavens was watched over by a great lion with a mighty blinking eye…'_ is our next clue to finding Earth."

"A 'blinking eye' could mean anything? And a great lion…?" Roslin asked.

Gaeta nodded his understanding of her skepticism over the ambiguity of the passage. But he and Baltar had spent hours, days, going over these data the battlestars had gathered and the passages.

"Baltar and the machines believed it to be an astronomical phenomenon causing the 'blinking eye', sir," Shaw said. She turned and centered the image Gaeta had placed in the corner. "The spectrometers and telescopes have detected an eclipsing pulsar, actually, a binary pulsar…" she brought up an animation of the images the computers had created. "Our computers extrapolated the readings from the radio, visual, and spectrographic readings and rendered what the eclipsing binary pulsar may look like."

"What do you suggest, Commander?" she asked and turned to gauge Adama's opinion. He was studying the plots and watching the computer animation with his usual scowl. "Could we begin jumping the fleet?"

He shook his head. "No. All the emergency jumps from fleeing the Cylons expended a significant amount of fuel... and keeping our FTL drives spooled is using significant reserves… no… If that binary eclipse," he motioned with his chin, "isn't the proper road sign the fuel cost would hurt us. We'd have to send a Raptor. Two or three just to be sure. Mr. Gaeta, Captain Shaw, is there any indication the Cylons would know about this pulsar?"

Gaeta looked down at his feet and grimaced and clenched his jaw.

"It's possible," he admitted, looking up and biting his lower lip, "but… I don't know, it's hard to say. I filed away a lot of Baltar's work on the planet. I know the Cylons were interested in it, the D'Anna and the Caprica Six in the brig were very interested." He shrugged. "Other than that sir, I can't be certain enough to make an educated guess."

"If they're engaged in a civil war at this point, Commander, it's unlikely they would be still looking for Earth."

Roslin huffed and folded her arms. "I guess some good did come out of those machines… they may have tricked the Cylons into fighting each other," she commented.

She was still doubting the truth behind what the machines had told her and a lingering, pestering thought in the back of her mind kept nagging at her subconscious, whispering that their precious Earth general wanted Colonial ships and technology for his own personal war. That somehow the machines knew where Earth was, despite their protestations to the contrary, and were just using the fleet.

"Maybe," Adama corrected her softly. "We don't know much… not really, not yet with Commander Cyrus's inability to share information with us," he said as he turned to face the President. "The recon birds we've been sending out have detected a few wireless signals calls… garbled and encrypted… but nothing concrete."

Roslin could read the Commander, tell he was annoyed, upset, and probably pissed at the Guardians. Her mind laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. She'd said for over two and a half years dealing with machines would lead to nothing but trouble. She even had her reservations about Athena and knew she still wasn't telling them everything she knew about the Cylon race.

The President nodded at the Commander's last remark as she refocused. She'd been feeling slightly dazed and fatigued that whole morning and had even thrown up before departing _Colonial One_.

"I hope it stays quiet. Maybe if there is a war they'll blast each other to pieces and we'll finally lose them." She hoped that would be the case, but a knot in her stomach told her such wishful thinking would only lead to New Caprica, Part Two.

"Madam President, Commander," Shaw interrupted, "we can have a Raptor recon team ready in an hour."

Shaw had been growing impatient with the needless banter between the two. Listening to them she had let her mind wander back to New Caprica. She'd seen the two together, when they thought they had been alone, secluded. She wondered what had happened between them.

"How long will the mission take?"

"If we hook one of the machines in the lead Raptor, we could be there in six or seven jumps. Maybe three or four hours there, two hours back, sir," Shaw answered immediately.

President Roslin had a look of disappointment at having to allow one of the machines to participate.

Shaw felt it as well, but she knew the machines would make the mission go by a lot faster and safer.

"To see if there is a 'lion's head' nebula the Raptor would need to maintain a distance of point five light years," Gaeta added. "Pulsars normally emit high levels of radiation, but as long as the Raptor stays half a light year or more away, the crews should be safe."

Commander Adama looked over towards the President, who nodded her approval at the unspoken question for permission. Such recon flights blurred the lines between 'military' and 'civilian' operations.

And the Commander didn't miss the miniscule smile which crept up and vanished on Roslin's face. He also saw a silent 'thank you' from her eyes for considering her input.

"Lieutenant Gaeta and Captain Shaw, coordinate with Captain Kelly and get three Raptors in the air. I think one of the Planck's soldiers is on board at the moment in engineering. I'll have Helo request him from Captain Bing and inform Apollo of the recon," Adama finished.

He stood there, his hands resting slightly on his stomach and waited for the two officers to depart. After a second they nodded, saluted, and turned quickly on their heels for CIC to plot the mission and log the orders in the computers.

Looking over her shoulder Roslin noted they were fairly alone, with the rest of the 'War Room' staff busy and preoccupied coordinating fleet traffic and communications.

"I wish that was how it is all the time," Roslin said quietly as she maneuvered herself to Adama's side in front of the wall monitors. "Where you could just inform _Pegasus_ instead-"

Adama held up his hand to cut her off. "We've had Admiral Cain with us for longer than without," he told her. He saw her wince at that bit of truth. "I've gotten used to the orders," he smiled, trying to calm her concern. He shrugged. "After the rough patch-"

Roslin coughed and threw her hand up in front of her mouth. "Excuse me?" She giggled to herself. "I'm sorry, I know it's not funny, but 'rough patch'… that's uh, kind of putting it lightly, Bill." She nudged him. "How is the new 'War Room'?" she asked.

Adama arched his eyebrows and opening his eyes a little wider and calmly turned and looked around and took in the War Room.

"I appreciate the gesture," he said.

It wasn't exactly what the President had been looking for, but she felt it was better than nothing.

"Any little bit I can do."

Her voice was soft and caring.

"I appreciate it… but," he paused when he saw her recoil, "but this… thing, or competition, whatever it is between you and Admiral Cain-"

She put a hand on his arm for him to listen. "I know, Bill. But you're the one who saved us," she whispered. "We know what Cain did and what Shaw did." She turned her head to look out of the War Room and towards where the plotting tables would be in CIC. From where she was standing she couldn't see Shaw, but the gesture wasn't lost on Adama.

"We can't-" he began to protest.

"I still think you should be in command of this fleet, Bill. Whether you want to hear it or not…" she trailed off as she kept her voice deathly quiet. She knew Adama could never forgive her if a crewman overheard and rumors spread. "You told me she 'mellowed out' after we landed on New Caprica… but she was in a Cylon cell the entire occupation. You don't think she has the same pennant for revenge she had when we first met? The upgrades, the armor… she'd never have let the Guardians do that unless she wanted revenge."

Commander Adama ignored the President's observations. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused in on the situation around him. He shifted his weight to get a better look at the President.

"I've been under her command for two years, Laura."

He didn't want to get into an argument. There was one woman in front of him he felt loyalty for not because he was supposed to. There was something deeper there. And a dozen kilometers off the bow was a woman he felt loyalty towards because he _was_ supposed to.

"No. _We've_ been under her command…" she shrugged and let out a barely audible snort, "…you more than me… with Baltar and all that."

He rolled his eyes at the memory of the bitter disappointment and failures of the Baltar Presidency. If he could go back in time (a thought he considered ironic given their guests and circimstances) he'd tell himself to shut the frak up and let Roslin and Tigh and Tory steal the election.

Adama breathed in and out slowly and took a small step closer to the President.

"Laura… I've been hearing rumors-"

"There are rumors about everything, Bill," she pointed out. She'd hear the same tone he had begun using when he would lecture her and express some disappointed or grave disagreement in her decisions. She tried to distract him with that little observation about there always being rumors on everything.

But while the emotional part of her mind was strongly urging her to say something else and distract him, the logical part, the part she trusted him to influence, needed to hear him. He was the only man she truly trusted.

"Laura…" he began again, his lips curling into a worried expression, "I've been hearing the rumors of Delegate Porter trying to land on _Helios_ and of the meeting you had with Major Avion."

She honestly had not expected him to bring up that. So she followed her habitual reaction to bad news and took off her glasses and massaged her nose bridge. She still had her glasses folded in her right hand, her left arm across her stomach and her eyes closed when she responded.

"Remember our deal? Military and civilian operations…" she knew immediately that wouldn't stick. "Delegate Porter is acting, doing, what she believes in right. I've had to make political concessions, Bill. Remember she supported Zarek for the Vice Presidency originally. And after the whole abortion issue…"

He stood impassively as he listened and tried not to cast judgment.

A frightening thought appeared in Commander Adama's mind at that moment. He saw a lot of his father… not his physical looks, obviously, but his demeanor, dedication, and single-minded pursuit of what he thought was right, in the President.

His father had greatly influenced Caprican civil defense laws before his death, revolutionized it even. Roslin was influencing the future of human politics, rewriting the laws and regulations which governed society for a society which not longer existed.

But that '_revolution_' had been for the benefit of the criminals. The_ Ha'la'tha _had been the ones to benefit from Joseph Adama's livid and exciting defense tactics. Commander Adama had realized the dedication and single-minded pursuit of what his father thought was 'right' had amounted to nothing more than a public ploy to appear as an idealistic crusader while secretly fighting for a criminal gang responsible for murder, theft, assassination, and so much more across the worlds.

In a sense, he was seeing that now in Laura Roslin. She tried to help those she believed needed help and do what she thought was right, even if unpopular. And when she thought she was right, she pursued her course with a narrow-minded tunnel vision only the ancient Titans could shake.

And now he was seeing the same here. What started as idealism in the first weeks after the Holocaust of the Colonies was quickly turning into a personal crusade against the 'monotheistic cult' which was spreading from the _Helios_ fleet. Commander Adama was concerned the dedication and idealism were just fronts for the possibility of a private pursuit for power and an abolition of anything which could stand in the way of that goal.

Already the Quorum was raising issues of secret executive orders. _Talk Wireless_ and the _Colonial Gang _were raising issues of the increasing secrecy and lack of recording meeting minutes from the Roslin Administration.And Laura wasn't sharing what she was doing with anyone except Billy and a few aides. Billy and Tory were good people, but Commander Adama knew the dangers of the inevitable group-think which would result if you kept information secret and too compartmentalized.

He also saw his uncle in Laura and saw parts of the murderer in himself as well. He'd known since childhood his uncle had been a murderer, an enforcer, and an assassin for the_ Ha'la'tha_ and the _Guatrau_. And for a time, Adama had almost followed in the steps of his bloody thirsty uncle.

He could remember with a crystral clarity back to the fateful day on board _Colonial One_ where Laura had first told him he had to kill Admiral Cain had shaken him more than he believed she had realized. The two battlestars had almost destroyed each other, but to murder, in cold blood, an admiral of the Colonial Fleet?

He'd seen his uncle and the worse aspects of his father appear in Laura that day and in himself. It'd taken a machine designed to kill, a _terminator_, to dissuade the president from killing Cain. The irony had not been lost on him.

And now he saw his friend and a woman who had been much more than a friend, going down a very, very dangerous path. His father had tried to quit the _Ha'la'tha_, but had only been drawn in more by the threats of the _Guatrau_. He didn't say a silent prayer to the Lords of Kobol, but he did silently vow he wouldn't let Laura go down the path his father had taken or his uncle.

"Laura. Remember when I said if you stole the election it would kill you inside?" He waited until she nodded to continue. "These… this… the politics in this fleet I know you can manage and if you keep going down this path… I think it will hurt the fleet more than anything Admiral Cain could, or could not do. It'll hurt you inside in a way you won't understand until the damage is done."

"This is more than about politics, Bill," she answered in her defense, "it's about survival as a _culture._ We can survive as a people fine. A thousand years from now if we go to Earth and they're done killing each other we can all have babies and there can be a hundred million descendents… but if none of them remember the Colonies, Kobol, our religion, our practices, our language… we're… we're dead. Survival is more than just surviving. I think you said we need to be 'worthy of survival.' And I agree. But part of being worthy is having the strength in preserving who we are."

Adama began to respond, but closed his mouth and thought for a moment as she had turned his decommissioning speech around on him. It'd been done before, with Sharon before the Battle of New Caprica. Leoben on Ragnar Anchorage had even alluded to something similar, though he'd not have heard the speech in the hanger bay.

He gently sighed. "Madam President, I understand. But these tactics will tear the fleet apart."

She looked over and could see the worry hidden behind a mask which had developed over four decades of military service. Roslin knew she had been fooled by that stoic expression Adama was able to conjur at a moment's notice in the past, but after New Caprica she wasn't.

She knew him.

Roslin wasn't sure what to say, but felt that looking down and staring at the deck plating might help her figure something, _anything_ out.

There was a time when he and she were a team and for a while much more than just a team.

She still saw Admiral Cain as an outsider, the machines as manipulative fraks, and the cult spreading due to a lack oversight and… something… by Major Avion to be threats to the fleet.  
But she admitted to herself that was a pragmatist and like the abortion issue, the prisoners on _Astral Queen_, and the dozens of minor crises which had hit the fleet before New Caprica that she couldn't stop events once in motion, but she could try and steer them somewhere acceptable.

She feared asking this question, but the silence between them was almost painful for her to endure. She felt her body tense as she prepared herself to ask what she had been longing, dying to ask since he came back for her and everyone else on New Caprica.

"When did it change, Bill?" She asked, still looking at the deck plates. "When did it change between us?"

She looked up, but now he was looking down. Gently she placed her hand back on his arm, not really caring if any of the people at the consoles saw this little display. There would be no mistake to anyone who saw that her hand on his arm was anything but a sign of something more intimate.

She started again. "We were happy on New Caprica-"

He looked up, and the raw emotion she could see in his eyes forced her to stop talking and stare back at them. Slowly she saw him reach his opposite hand and lay it on her. But he did something else, something that confused her. She didn't look down, but he felt him grip her hand tightly and squeeze, before slowly lifting it off his arm and letting it fall back to her side.

Adama remembered he had told Sharon, Athena, he 'didn't do regret.'

"You're right," he told her. "But I abandoned you on New Caprica. I fled. I can't forgive myself for leaving you."

She felt a little bit enraged over that. If he felt he abandoned her, it wasn't his responsibility to feel guilt _for her_. "Bill… you didn't abandon me. You rescue me. You saved everyone. If you'd stayed you'd be dead. I'd be dead. We'd all be dead."

Within seconds she saw the rock hard eyes of the Commander change from guilt to a soft acceptance of what she'd said. He placed a hand on the hand touching his sleeve.

He smiled. "I'm needed in CIC," he said.

* * *

==========Raptor 39, En Route to Eclipsing Pulsar (+954 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========  
"I thought this wasn't supposed to take long?" Captain Kendra Shaw asked incredulously as see glared back at Carter from her bucket seat across from the ECO station in the Raptor.

"We're only two jumps away, please remain calm," Carter answered.

Reflexively she rubbed her helmet where her temple would be.

Of course she was calm. She knew the machine was just trying to get under her skin. Shaw had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but decided it would be better for her own sanity if she held her comments for later.

She looked off to the side of the Raptor and studied the gray-brown inner hull for a minute. Then looking over to the ECO console she watching the various light blinking. Then her shoulder dropped when she figured out how pathetic she'd look if Carter saw her distracted by _shiny lights_. Not that she really cared for his, it's, opinion anyway. But it would still be embarrassing.

In the limited mobility of flight suit she tried to turn and see what Athena and Racetrack were doing in the Raptor cockpit. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Racetrack's mouth moving, so she assumed the two were talking about something over one of the private com lines in the Raptor.

She rolled her eyes. She didn't really want to talk to the Cylon or the Cylon's friend, anyway.

Now she was wishing she'd brought a book to read or a computer to do work on. She'd thought the mission would give her a few hours to relax. She had hoped these few hours would let her just sit back, relax, and close her eyes as Carter did all the work and the pilots pressed the red jump button a few times. This was like any routine, long range recon mission.

But Shaw, not being a pilot herself, had underestimated the boredom factor. Now she wished she had that little portable game pad Crashdown and his ECO had brought along. They were probably playing some ridiculous fighting game or something. Athena was probably projecting while listening to Racetrack. And she didn't want to guess what Carter was doing. She rolled her eyes again.

Grimacing and sighing with boredom she folded her arms and slouched back in the front bucket seat and watched as the FTL calculations ran through the computer.

She switched her suit's com to channel 18 Delta, the private channel for Carter's suit.

"Can you read that gibberish?" She asked.

"I can read some of it, the important parts," Carter responded. He assumed she was talking about the 'runes' which were scrolling across the monitors.

"What if you miss something?"

He turned his head and smirked. Shaw watched as the cord running out of the oxygen supply nozzle (coming from his skull) into the computer twisted with the movement.

He turned back and concentrated on his work and the calculations for the extended jump when he saw her squinting and attempting to, he assumed, read the machine code. Either that or she was extremely bored. Her previous body language supported the latter hypothesis.

"I won't miss anything." He shrugged. "The machine language is complicated, complex. Most of it is… code. But that's a very simplistic description of what it actually is."

The cavalier, non-chalant attitude slightly annoyed Captain Shaw. But at the same time-

"It's going to be difficult to figure out what it means unless you ask," he pointed out, interrupting her thought. "Here," he held up his hand and pointed at one of the screens.

"What is that supposed to say?" Shaw asked. She got up from her bucket seat and walked over behind Carter and studied the rune-like symbols. She leaned forward slightly and clasped her hands behind her back.

"That's an 'a'," he told her.

The symbol was a mix of various shapes, a circle inside a square with two lines coming off the top of the square, followed by two more dots stacked on top of each other with a '' symbol.

"That's an 'a'?" She asked, not believing him. "That's incredibly complicated." She laughed and shook her head. "Why not just use a normal alphabet?"

He held up his index finger. "Let me correct myself. That's like an 'a'. There is no actual alphabet in the machine language… sort of. It's very difficult to explain. It also relies heavily on geometric figures for the written portions."

"Okay…" she said with a heavy hint of skepticism. "I'm a Classics major, Carter. I can speak four languages, including the Ancient Language spoken on Kobol."

He turned his head slightly before looking back at the screen.

"Congratulations…?" he said with an equal mix of serious and mocking praise.

She saw him cock his head and thought she saw a little devious smirk before Carter's face returned to its normal passivity.

Three lines of machine code scrolled out across the monitor.

"So what does it say?"

"That's your name."

She squinted and leaned closer, placing her hand on the console. "That's my name?" She turned to look at him. "It looks more like a paragraph." She did recognize the 'like an 'a'' symbols.

"Hey, you ready to jump the ship yet?!" Athena yelled.

Carter looked over with a bored glare. There was still three seconds… two seconds… one second… "The calculations are complete. You can jump."

The Raptor fed the coordinates and calculations to the other ships and jumped.

When the Raptor came back from jump space Shaw noticed Carter's left eye was closed and his face looked contorted as if in pain. And as usually, the expression faded in the blink of an eye.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

She leaned down to get a better look. "I'm not a fraking idiot. I've seen it happen before. So, what's the problem? There's this wince or something when we jump… but… but not all the time."

Despite trying to sound more curious than concerned, an advanced infiltrator could pick up the subtle differences. He decided honesty was the best course of action.

"We don't know. It only happens when moving in certain directions… we have no idea what long term exposure to jump space does to our neural network CPUs."

"We've jumped more in these past few years then many do in a lifetime," Shaw commented quietly.

"Since coming to the Colonies I've been through one thousand twenty-four faster-than-light jumps. It will be another twenty-five minutes before I have the next set of jump coordinates, Captain."

Shaw rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the console to protest the abrupt change in topics. It was typical. She was used to it. The _Pegasus_ officer looked back towards the cockpit and eyed her bucket seat, but decided to stay behind the ECO console and watch the machine runes race across the screen. She leaned up against the side of the Raptor and folded her arms.

"Do you miss Caprica?"

Captain Shaw didn't process the question immediately.

She was confused. "Um… why do you ask?" she asked after a short delay.

"Curiosity, if you want. I don't hear many people talk about the Colonies much."

"I think New Caprica finally forced us to admit the Colonies were gone forever…" she admitted. She smiled remorsefully and looked down. She pushed herself off the wall and took a seat to Carter's right, in the rear of the Raptor. "The first week was actually the easiest." She shot her head back and questioned herself on why she'd told him that. Her mind kept telling her to shut up but for one reason or another, her mouth kept moving and she kept talking over the private channel between them.

"The first week was actually the easiest. The second and third weeks weren't bad. We were still repairing the ship… those top side heat exchangers," she laughed to herself. "Then we fought at the communic-" she cut herself off before she could finish. Colonel Belzen's blood and brain matter blasted and dripping down the rear plotting graph flashed in front of her. And after that was _Scylla…_ "I think about a month in was when it hit us… uh… we were, well, thought we were, the last survivors of the Colonies. Between then and when _Pegasus_ found _Galactica_ it was tough, real tough. Half a dozen crewmen committed suicide the first month and another dozen had psychotic breaks… and we really thought we were the last… how do you go on? Just revenge… you know? That drains you more than you would realize."

Carter leaned back from the console and looked at her for a second. "There's a lot of ways people try and escape their problems." Then he leaned back and refocused on his work. "After Judgment Day suicide was high. Euthanasia was very common, mainly in those suffering radiation poisoning." He stopped for a second and looked off towards the side. "And yes, I do know." He looked back and saw the confused look. "Revenge, Captain Shaw… on Earth."

He wasn't referring to Skynet, either.

Shaw wasn't paying close enough attention to answer him and she'd missed his quick inspection of her. But she had heard his statement on revenge.

She'd been leaning back and playing with her hands. For a moment, after she'd told him of the suicides and psychotic break downs, the flight suit and helmet made her feel extremely claustrophobic and sick. She closed her eyes. But that didn't help.  
Reaching to the rear of her helmet she turned off the soft blue lights which had been illuminating her face. While fleet psychologists claimed they calmed down the pilots during battles or extended operations like this, the lights were making her nauseous.

A few second after turning them off she opened her eyes and felt a wave of serenity wash over her.

She also adjusted the temperature gauge on her flight suit. She was starting to sweat, so if she could make it a little cooler, maybe that'd help.

"Do you miss Earth?" she asked him with her eyes closed. She could barely see the flicker of lights through her eyelids. She knew Carter had turned around and was looking at her when the lights became dark.

She told herself this was intelligence gathering. The more she knew about the machines, the better she could plan for any betrayal of her or the Admiral. She also suspected the machine may have also been doing the same to her; get her trust and force her to let her guard down. She'd not let that happen.

"I would prefer to be there rather than running from a race of killer robots."

She snorted. Now he was trying to be funny. She opened her eyes and found he had swiveled the small stool around and was leaning with his back on the console and was staring at her with his arms folded.

"A yes or no would have been fine," she told him with a grin.

"Then yes, I do. It should also be near December 23 on Earth, on the West Coast, at least… it's the holidays… Christmas is in two days. It's an important celebration for many."

"Yeah? I can't imagine there's much to celebrate on a ruined world… it's ridiculous," she whispered to herself.

"Celebrations are important for morale."

Carter shrugged and stretched out his legs and crossed them down at the ankles. The way he was sitting with a red cord running out the O2 nozzle on the back of his helmet and plugged into the side of the console was slightly hilarious to Shaw.

"Well, it was mostly before Judgment Day. The most people celebrate now is just saying '_Merry Christmas_' or '_Happy Independence Day'_…_'Happy birthday'_… or '_build day'_ if you're a machine… that's about it."

"…build day?" Shaw questioned and eyed him suspiciously. She knew what it meant but didn't believe it.

"Yes. General Connor started it for the machines. First with Cameron then expanded it to the rest… even Catherine Weaver took part and acquiesced and told him her 'build day.'"

"Whatever."

She saw a video sequence start on the monitor. There were mountains and snow and some sporting event. Skiing?

This seemed random to Shaw. "What is that?"

"January 3rd to 10th we and the Connors went to Aspen, a ski resort in the former American Midwest. It was five months until Judgment Day." Shaw saw Carter staring at the hatch and his eyes seemed sort of glazed over, but with a light glow. "By that time Kaliba's operations were too wide spread to stop so General Connor's mother… of all people… if you knew her… suggested a trip. It was unexpected and Planck had been dead set against it, with the open space which could be prime for sniper attacks. But Cameron pointed out if Kaliba and Skynet could track us that easily there was nothing stopping them from redirecting a military UCAV drone to destroy the safe house with a JDAM." He realized she probably didn't know what a UCAV and JDAM were. "Redirect a military drone aircraft to drop a few guided bombs," he elaborated.

Shaw gave him a look. She'd figured out what they were by the context. "It seems a pretty off-the-wall thing to do, anyway. Unexpected," Shaw observed.

"Exactly. That's why she suggested it. It was 'off-the-wall' enough Kaliba and the others… no one would expect it."

Carter brought up a short video of them getting ready for the trip once they'd reached Aspen. Their cabin was massive. It had some strange looking dead animal heads hanging in the foyer. She saw the terminators split up and she assumed they were securing the premises.

She did grin and laugh quietly to herself when she saw Carter, Planck, and some young girl inspecting over a dozen different rifles and a similar number of handguns they'd lain out in a room on the top floor of the cabin.

She saw the video through Carter's eyes. And it was fairly strange seeing him in a mirror, looking at him look at himself. But she saw Planck, looking the exact same (she remembered they had told them they didn't age) and Soto before she changed her appearance.

"Who are they?" She motioned with her chin.

"The one scowling and carrying the black suitcase is Derek Baum, the General's uncle and currently commander of Tech Com Spec Ops." Shaw saw him shove a suitcase into Planck's chest and then storm off and turn on the television. "The one talking to him is Sarah Connor, General Connor's mother. The one standing next to the General is Cameron, currently second in command of Tech Com."

Shaw looked on at the changing images and video. One was at a dinner, some nice looking restaurant with a dress code; suit and tie and black evening dress. Her trained eye saw all the 'men' with shoulder holsters.

There was a snowball fight outside the opulent cabin. It was even larger than she had first thought. But the snowball fight was human versus machine. But the younger looking girl machine, Cameron, stayed by the young General's side and fought against the other three. She didn't have to watch to figure out which side would win that one.

Even the machines looked like they were enjoying themselves, even if they were a little stiff. With a different section of video they were on the ski slopes and she saw how Soto maneuvered her skis to cut off someone from coming in too close to _The General_ in the middle.

She tried to keep herself from laughing at how ridiculous it was, but she felt if she tried any harder to contain it she'd end up spitting all over her visor. So she laughed and Carter did too, a little. She figured it was at her.

Shaw looked up at the mission clock. Her eyes went wide as she realized she'd been talking with Carter and watching these first person videos… memories, she suddenly realized, about skiing and the snow for nearly twenty minutes.

"So you all were sent back to do what… in 2007?"

"Us and many others," Carter answered. "It was a time war. There were dozens, hundreds of operatives from both sides being sent back. General Connor, from our original present needed more protection and training for his past self. And the war was lost. There wasn't a network to fight Skynet. The free machine faction emerged too late and with too few forces… the humans didn't trust us… to change the inevitable Skynet victory."

"You were sent back to help."

"Yes… to help."

"Earth seemed… a lot like the Colonies," she said. She felt her brow become heavier and she scowled as she remembered bits and pieces from her childhood. Carter might have showed her skiing but she'd have shown him the beach, if she could have. Her parents' villa on the Central Ocean wasn't as magnificent as that ski cabin, but it had been something else.

"It was, for the most part. Like any… planet, it had nice parts and bad." He jabbed his thumb back. "That's Los Angeles. Now it's one of Skynet's main hubs. We think its Skynet Central."

She felt a need to say something. "If we get to Earth, I'm sure the Admiral would be more than happy to drop a few rocks on it from orbit."

She nodded to herself. She assumed death, destruction, and annihilation would calm a _terminator_ down.

"I'll… keep that in mind," he said warily.

She saw a shot of the city during the day, then again at night. The buildings looked marvelous. And without a doubt she deduced the red and white lights at a near standstill were cars in gridlock.

Grinning, she felt a slight ping of relief that even across the galaxy human civilization had certain constants about it. Even with FTL travel and space flight, automobile congestion was common in the big cities of the Colonies.

"Wow," she gasped. Caprica City was impressive, the largest in the Colonies, but Los Angeles was much more open, sprawling. "How many lived there?"

"In the city there were a little over four million and in the surrounding county close to nineteen million. But I was only active in the pre-Judgment Day era from 2007 to 2011. But in those four years, I saw enough," he said. "Anyway, you've seen the images of how the world looks now, or what we think it looks like now-"

"If we make it to Earth, _when_ will we get there?" She held up her hand to keep him from responding before she could warn him. "And please don't tell me 'it's complicated.'"

He arched his eyebrows and looked over. For some reason he tilted his head and scratched the side of his helmet in what Shaw through was some sloppy attempt to imitate confusion.

"Okay… 'I don't know'…. will that work?"

The little grin she still had from seeing Los Angeles faded and her lips compressed and eyes narrowed.

"I take that as a 'no'… but truthfully, Captain, we don't know and the temporal-spatial displacement device is still classified." He gave her a long shrug, stopping his shoulder movement at the top then slowly bringing them back to neutral. "There are so many variables and questions not even the inventors fully understand time… I wish I could tell you."

Shaw closed her left eye and looked down and out towards the hatch. He sounded sincere, she wanted to believe him, but their vocalizer could make them sound however they wanted. And she didn't have enough faith to go on that alone.

She looked up to see if she could read his face or body language. She considered it might be a ploy, him sharing this information with her, but sometimes, she admitted, there wasn't always an ulterior motive. They did say they got 'bored' easily and enjoyed conversing.

"I'm done with the last calculations, Captain," Carter said.

Now it was back to business.

"Don't tell me." She pointed to Athena.

Shaw decided she was just going to sit back and let the skeptical part of her mind take a break for a little while. Even Admiral Cain had noticed how 'strung up' she'd been. Those had been Cain's words. At the time she'd dismissed them with a lazy mental eye roll and a sour frown.

Shaw knew if she didn't 'relax' then Admiral Cain would order her to _Cloud 9_ or onto _Zephyr_, the _Z_, for R&R. Or she might be forced to _Everlasting Bliss. _She knew that would be utterly, completely _horrible_.

With her thoughts to distract her she didn't notice Carter turning back to the ECO station or the countdown on the mission clock to jump. All she saw was a bright blue-white light.

"_This is Crashdown. You all seeing the nebula?"_ he asked over the wireless.

They all saw the Lion's Head Nebula and the blinking light. This was the way to Earth.

"Radiological alarm!" Athena shouted. "Holy frak I'm picking up nukes all over the fraking place!"

_"Athena, Crashdown,"_ came an urgent call over the wireless. _"You getting all of this?"_

"_Roger. Crash and Dash, hold positions_," the bio-Cylon responded.

Captain Shaw had jumped up from her position and was now half way in the cockpit, her body construed at an odd angle with one hand on the cockpit door frame and another on Athena's seat. Carter had also disconnected the cord from the ECO console and was standing behind her.

"Athena… that's gotta be the Cylon fleet… who the frak… are they… attacking themselves?" Racetrack whispered. "DRADIS contact! They're a half light minute out. There's a Raider squadron accelerating in. Computer says contact… three minutes."

"We need to jump. Carter, is the FTL spooled?" Athena turned back to look at Carter and almost knocked her visor with Captain's Shaw's.

"Yes."

Captain Shaw had leaned forward until her visor was right next to Athena's. She squinted, but at that distance the ships wouldn't even be specks. But the light from the nuclear explosions, and the sheer amount of ordnance being expended was enough to put on a very impressive display.

A series of explosions in the center of what she assumed to be the battle could be nothing other than baseship explosions.

They needed intelligence.

"Negative. Lieutenant Agathon, get on the horn to the other Raptors. We need intelligence. Bring us in to twenty-five LS out so our cameras can get better snaps."

Athena looked at her wide eyed but shook her head and palmed the wireless _transmit_ button.

"_Crash, Dash- Athena. Move up to twenty-five light seconds and activate surveillance equipment. We're going to take some snaps and video of the battle then jump out. Reciprocal jump heading. We'll jump on my mark in one minute thirty." _Athena informed them over the wireless.

"With all the jamming they're throwing up they'll need to close into gun range. We have time," Shaw calmly informed the others in the Raptor. She felt a brush against her as Carter moved by and reconnected into the ECO console.

The cameras were feeding information into the ECO station and stills were already showing up of the Cylon battle. There were dozens of ships, thousands of raiders, and multiple resurrection ships.

Shaw came back to the ECO console. "If we jump in _Pegasus_ how far out will she be able to see the battle?"

Carter began accessing the data with his neural net CPU-ECO computer link. The navigational data and point extrapolations flashed across the screen until a different heading and carom position plot appeared on the screen.

He tapped the monitor. "At that position _Pegasus_ would be nine light hours out. It would be the optimal angle with the least amount of background clutter to see the battle."

"Exactly. We jump _Pegasus_ in there we can watch this whole fraking battle after the fact."

* * *

A/N:

The _Ha'la'tha_ were from _Caprica_ and the _Guatrau _was their 'don'.

_Pegasus _will be able to watch the battle after it's occurred since it's jumping nine light hours out. I wanted to include a little "hard science" like that in the story and thought this would be a good time to put it in there.

And yes, that is the Lion's Head Nebula where the probe was found. So the whole deal with the probe is going to be radically altered.

Part of the message the hybrid gives Natalie was inspired from the Bible, with some tweaks, so is the baseship's alphanumeric designation (it requires addition). Some of the message will be revealed in the next chapter and the message the hybrid gave to Natalie is what will be the focus of the rest of Part II (there will be a Part III).

Also, with the conversation between Shaw and Carter, Shaw is asking herself if Carter is being friendly for some ulterior purpose. She's being friendly to 'gather intelligence'. Whether she believes what she's telling herself is open to interpretation… (that's after she asks him if he misses Earth). I also wanted to point out that the 'pain' the terminators experience when jumping is only occurring when they jump in certain directions...

Anyway, please read and review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you!


	21. Chapter 21

==========Guardian Baseship (+954 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========

The command bridge of the Guardian baseship was silent, as always. In addition to the silence, the internal corridors of the baseship were dark, and the life support systems were operating at a very minimal setting. They kept the ship at a temperature too cool for humans to be comfortable at but at an optimal setting for the hardware required to run the vessel. And since the machines could see in various light spectra, overhead lights were not required unless humans were aboard.

John Planck stood disconnected from the data stream console in the center of the command bridge and kept his eyes mobile between Daniel and Commander Cyrus.

"The Raptor patrol should return soon," John sent to Cyrus and Daniel over their wireless communication links.

"Assuming the ancient texts are correct we may be one step closer to Earth," Daniel added. "Eclipsing pulsars… one would think they'd just tell what their heading was."

"Before we reach Earth we need to deal with the Cylons." John stated. "It's unfortunate you weren't able to interface with the hybrid, Daniel." He turned to face the other AI construct.

"Is that what we're calling it?" Daniel asked, somewhat disgusted.

"To save billions of lives… yes." After a short pause in which Daniel's eyes glowed red, John added, "Absolutely." He looked over towards Daniel, then over and passed the machine. "They killed twenty billion. Genocide is what created us. But none of us here were responsible for the events leading to our construction. Except for a few Cylons created since the attack, the vast majority of their race were willing participants in species-level genocide."

"You value the humans too much. They'll always disappoint us," Commander Cyrus stated over his wireless. "They do not make that distinction."

Cyrus's roving red eye swooshed back and forth in his gold plated Centurion body. His MCP had been transferred back from his IL series body and back to the armored, stronger body of the Centurion. A slight whine of his servos indicated he was turning his head as he continued to receive wireless updates from the ship's central computer.

"I place no more value on humanity than it deserves," John answered. "And these tens of thousands deserve a significant amount of value for their machine-like resolve and spirit." He narrowed his eyes. "Their persistence to survive is remarkable."

He kept his wireless transmission flat and precise, not sending the data packets which would indicate his mood. Currently, he was annoyed. But he assumed Daniel and Cyrus would come to that conclusion. Not sending the code strings for various emotions if the data packets was indicative of either annoyance, anger, or contentment the vast majority of the time. And any machine could determine 'contentment' was nowhere near this conversation.

John looked down and watched the light show from the data stream console as the three stood there in relative silence.

"Commander Cyrus, you offered them your services and they accepted. They attacked the supply depot with… you gave them that speech about working together. Do I need to send it to you, again?" John asked. He did send out a data packet that time. There was slight annoyance and a hint of condescension.

"In public we must work together. But in private we express out misgiving," Cyrus commented. "Machines are pragmatic. Humans are emotional."

Cyrus's roving eye halted then resumed a short two seconds later. Daniel stood impassively and watched the two.

After a minute he responded more in depth to John's previous statement.

"Yes. You are correct. Their _military_ has shown a willingness to work with machines and put their prejudices behind them. They've accepted a biological Cylon, Sharon Agathon, as part of their military. And they allow you and Bishop and Soto to move freely among the fleet. Even the Centurions, though you tell me their movements are more limited. Very well," Cyrus conceded. He straightened himself up with a soft whine of his servos to a full seven feet and nodded his head.

Since the command bridge was in near total darkness, the flickering and pulsing lights from the various data stream consoles in the command bridge were the only forms of light. From the central command console a flare of blues and red pulsating light were reflected off of Cyrus's golden armored helmet and reflected back onto John's eyes and face.

Standing there, John could feel the cold of the command bridge. Even though he had lessened the sensory input from his skin, its automatic reaction was to form goose bumps. And his breath was barely visible as he continued breathing.

Commander Cyrus had watched and had been temporarily fascinated by the intricacies of the infiltration measures utilized by the Earth robots. In the company of only machines, the Earth commander did not have to mimic breathing, yet still did. Cyrus could dismiss the goose bumps on the skin, but the breathing…

"_But_…" John led, sensing Cyrus had more to say.

The Guardian wrote off his observations for analysis at a later date.

"_But_ their civilians have shown a deciding lack of acceptance. Soto was chastised and insulted aboard _Cloud 9_ during the medical relief mission by the Gemonese and Sagittaron refugees," he said. "I am positive you read the propaganda formulated by the _Sons of Aries_ and spread throughout the fleet? Or the _Purist Society_ or the _Apollonian Guard_ and how they continue to spread messages of distrust against '_the machine_.'"

Commander Cyrus sent a data transfer request across the wireless, which John accepted. The specific pamphlets and posters were verified by security software and projected into John's neural net.

The most repeated poster features a smuggled picture of Jo after she had been attacked by Mr. Jahee of the _Demand Peace_ movement. There was a picture of her endoskeleton from behind, then a larger image of her skull. The description read '_A Demon Smiles, a Civilization Dies,'_ with various other semi-witty one liners printed under the title and under the picture of Soto's endoskeleton trampling on a field of human remains. It was fairly gruesome, but it had shock value.

"The military will be more accepting, Commander, because they see machines working with them, every day. They see their contributions," Daniel interjected. He too had received the data packet with the pamphlets. "We also benefited from the _Helios_ fleet never having to fight the Cylons as fiercely as the _Galactica-Pegasus_ fleet."

John nodded to Daniel's observation. He turned back towards Cyrus.

"Of course," Cyrus conceded, "And the occupation of New Caprica."

"There will always be radicals and no civilization should be condemned for the actions of radicals," John added.

"What happened on New Caprica, with the _Sons of Aries_, John? " Cyrus asked, concerned. "Their propaganda mentions it and they claim she killed three humans."

John would have sighed at the memory of her debriefing.

"She did. They were Cylon sympathizers. We would have called them 'Grays' on Earth. On Earth my team was given significant operational discretion in dealing with traitors and spies. The humans were spies, traitors to the New Caprica Resistance. She dealt with them. Unfortunately without the consent of Chief Tyrol or Sam Anders, who were leading the resistance during Colonel Tigh's detention." He paused for a moment. "I would have done the exact same and I support her decision."

"As would I," Cyrus stated. "But the point is, the _Sons of Aries_, and other groups will ignore the _why_ and focus on the _what_."

"I've worked with humans for over thirty years, Commander." He held up his index finger. "Perhaps the most important observation I have made is that they are very capable of realizing their mistakes. Just like machines, they are not above introspection and improvement. Admiral Cain and Commander Adama command the loyalty of their crews. And while President Roslin is less accepting, she is a shrewd and pragmatic leader."

"And she knows you won't abandon the fleet now," Daniel said. "Once we machines set our mind to something, it's very hard to distract us, isn't it?"

Cyrus nodded. "I've also been leading this fleet for nearly forty years. The conflicts with the Colonials are far different than what you described on Earth."

Daniel turned slightly to better face Commander Cyrus. "You need to give it time, friend. They know the rescue on New Caprica would have ended in significantly more loses if it were not for your forces. Their fleet had been re-provisioned and reunited with other survivors."

If Cyrus had been in his IL body he would have rolled his eyes.

"The problem with the humans is that they want us to earn _their_ acceptance. You have said it yourself that if they reach Earth they will need to learn to live with machines," Cyrus stated. "And they must be more humble. It's unfortunate we're so… young… inexperienced, compared to them." He waved his hand. "Earth may be the only suitable world for them. There are very few worlds hospitable to human habitation in this galaxy."

"Admiral Cain has learned to trust us and we've come to trust her judgment… on most issues. Issues she needs to be aware of."

The servos in Cyrus's arms activated and he balled his gold armored hands into fists and placed them on the brim of the command console.

"Trust is a finite resource, John."

"I agree, it is, Commander." He nodded.

"After you removed my surveillance programs in the _Helios _fleet I have been forced to rely on human contacts. Again, problems come from the same groups," Cyrus objected. "Again, John, to work with the humans…" he trailed off. "The _Helios_ fleet is quite different than this _Galactica-Pegasus_ fleet. They fled, but Major Avion is an honorable man and recognized his error and accepted our help. Maybe it was out of desperation? President Roslin and her Quorum still act belligerent towards us… almost like they believe they're _supposed_ to, just because. The delegate, Ms. Porter and the anti-machine cults attempt to disrupt fleet integration."

"If they had discovered the surveillance packages-"

"You assume that when _Helios_ accepted out offer Captain Avion was unaware of the surveillance," Cyrus stated. He straightened himself before continuing. "_Helios_ taking the civilian fleet and fleeing had more repercussions than just deaths of human civilians. That was the condition."

John nodded slowly as he kept his face passive dull. He'd ordered Bishop to install backdoor worms aboard _Galactica_ in her engineering and FTL computers. The Earth machine could not fault Cyrus for installing his own spy worms.

He decided to change the subject back to Delegate Porter.

"Porter's actions are simple reactions. A '_knee-jerk_ 'reaction is the saying on Earth. It's supposed to be irrational," John grinned slightly.

Cyrus waved the comment away.

"As long as the Colonials uphold their end of the bargain and aid us…occasionally, this alliance with them will stand."

"An alliance of convenience," Daniel pointed out.

John focused on Daniel. He thought the machine was treading dangerously. Planck would not put Earth or General Connor in danger from this fleet. But Daniel, he was still unsure of. The time spent in the Cylon Network may have affected him more than even he could realize. While the Earth machine didn't question Daniel's loyalty to Earth, he saw the advanced network attack AI as treading dangerously close to a true dual allegiance. And those always ended in bitter disappointment for both factions.

"All alliances are only made if convenient," Cyrus said. "And if, when, we make it to Earth, like I offered, we will launch orbital strikes on Skynet facilities. Assuming-"

"My rank and position in Tech Com affords me the authority to personally guarantee alliances and technology transfers. As I promised, Commander, fusion power and neural net architecture will be sent to you," John interrupted. "General Connor will recognize the terms you and I agreed to." He turned to Daniel. "And John Henry will want to know what you experienced in the Cylon Network, Daniel."

In many fields of science and engineering Tech Com and Skynet had leads of many decades when compared to the Colonials, Cylons, and Guardians. But space ships offered the true high ground, and a million liquid metal terminators could do nothing to a ship in orbit launching kinetic strikes and nuclear bombardment. And the maneuverability of their fighter craft outclassed even the newest generations of aerial H/Ks and Tech Com UCAVs. All alliances were made if convenient.

And John knew all alliances had a price. There was the public perception the Earth-Guardian alliance was out of good will. But in reality, privately, the alliance had been forged in the hours leading up to the Battle of New Caprica with the promise of technology.

Erica's assessment had also been correct. She'd convinced John to go with her and find the Guardians. The Cylons would eventually find them and hunt them down. Commander Cyrus knew this as well. He needed Earth just as much as the Colonials needed the resources he could provide. But the Colonials face a clear and present threat of extinction, while the threat to the Guardians was still theoretical.

It all came down to who needed it more. And the Colonials needed it more than the Guardians.

"On Earth there were certain nations which shared a 'special relationship'," John said. "They were bound by common history, language, and culture. Unfortunately what binds us is merely our… what we are. How long has it been?" He asked rhetorically.

The gold armored Centurion Cyrus's MCP was in tilted its head.

"One hundred and thirty-one days," Cyrus answered slowly. "A lot has happened."

"Not long enough?"

"The supply depot was a test. I was sincere in my desire to work with the humans and even in some sort of co-existence. It's possible, but it is not my decision to make," Cyrus said. Cyrus tilted his head and his roving optical scanner stopped in the left corner of his visor. "A courier just jumped in. The ship has received a signal from the command facility," he said, turning to face Daniel and John. "John, you should return to _Pegasus_. Erica and Daniel should relocate to the other baseship. I don't know how long I will be gone."

"Cyrus, what's-" Daniel started to ask.

The Commander's data packet cut off Daniel's transmission. "I have to return to the command facility. I'll leave one baseship with the refugee fleet." He placed his hand back into the data stream and the conducting gels seeped into the micropores of Cyrus's armored hand. Manipulating the electrical fields he received a second update. "And the Raptor teams have returned." He withdrew his hand. "Some have said machines cannot have faith, John. I put mine in you. Do not let me down."

Cyrus held out his armored hand, which John down at, and then looked back into the roving optical scanner pulsing back and forth in Cyrus's visor.

"Thank you," John simply responded, shaking his hand. Their grips could have crushed a human hand. He released and turned to Daniel. "I have a Raptor in the landing bay. Can you take Erica to the other baseship?" Daniel nodded. "Thank you." He turned back to Cyrus. "Good luck commander."

* * *

==========BS-62 _Pegasus_==========

Admiral Cain nodded and then returned a salute from a pair of crewmembers who had stepped to the side of the A-framed corridor and rendered a hand salute. As she patrolled through the winding, almost maze-like layout of corridors within the battlestar her eyes darted and danced around the bulkheads, light fixtures, vents, everything.

Every day she took time to inspect her battlestar. The damage from Scorpion had been repaired long ago, but in fights with Cylons, the Guardians, then New Caprica, and the Cylons again her battlestar had taken a heavy pounding.

The cold hell which had been New Caprica had actually allowed her repair crews to work out much of the damage in the _Beast_. President Baltar had demanded of her almost half of her ship's technicians to aid building New Caprica City. A simple motion with her hand, a _click_ of the red '_off'_ button on the wireless, and that conversation had ended.

"Gaius _Fraking_ Baltar," she muttered to herself as she ran her eyes up and down an odd-looking bulkhead. Reaching out she ran her hand down and felt a horizontal hairline fracture. Grimacing, she had to squint to read the small number printed on the bulkhead. She'd have Chief Garner send a crew to inspect it. The structural cracks repair crews found at the Guardian facility running through _Galactica_ had her on edge. Hopefully they had caught them and repaired them with braces, struts, and reinforcement girders before the problem became exacerbated.

Inspecting only a tiny fraction of her battlestar she found nothing else abnormal; she was proud of the _Beast_, as the unofficial nickname had her, and she walked with her head held high, chest out, and hands clasped behind her back. Occasionally she would let her right hand fall to the pistol. Over the last few years it had become as much of her uniform as her rear admiral pips.

Behind her, a Marine escort kept a respectful distance. The Marine, armed with an assault rifle would be an intimidating presence for any individual wishing to do the Admiral harm.

Her thoughts drifted. While she trusted her crew there was often times a hundred or more civilians arriving and departing each day. Security was tight. Each civilian was sent through metal detectors and bomb detection equipment. She did not want a repeat of the suicide bomber incident. If that had happened before the Cylon attack she'd have been expected to tender her resignation. A ship commander was always responsible. She shook her head. It didn't matter what use to happened in the Colonial Fleet, not anymore.

Now the rules were different, rewritten. The sacrifices written in the blood of thousands, billions, had forced the fleet to make their own rules to run a civilization which was holding on by bruised and bloodied fingernails.

Admiral Cain slowed her steps until she came to an abrupt halt. Her heels vibrated on the metal deck plating and a light echo sounded when she stopped.

"Corporal, please wait outside," Cain ordered.

The Marine came to attention, eyes centered, and acknowledged. He side-stepped and turned ninety degrees until his back was against the wall, one meter from the hatch door.

Admiral Cain walked into the compartment labeled '_Brig Alpha One'_, the central control hub for the cells on _Pegasus_. She reached into her pocket and pulled her magnetic security card. She entered a PIN and when the center light blinked, swiped her card. _'Authorized- Admiral Cain, commanding officer'_ the brig computer chimed.

The door _swooshed _open and Admiral Cain took one step in past the threshold.

There were four Marines on duty. One was watching a monitor and the other three were doing paperwork. The compliment of Marines rotated various guard duties, from CIC to the hanger deck to engineering to the brig every few days.

Over the many, many months _Pegasus_ had been fighting and attacking the Cylons after the Holocaust, and the two years since the battlestar found _Galactica_, she had been coming to the brig on regular occasions. None knew what she did exactly. But she was never there for more than a ticks of the minute hand of the ship's clock.

"Room, atten-shun!" The first Marine to see her enter shouted. The four shot up and stood as still as statues and as straight as rods.

"Give me the room," she ordered. Her voice was cool and lacked any signs of emotion. She took two steps in and waited with her hands behind her back. Like a Tauron falcon she watched each one leave. Looking over her right shoulder she watched the brig doors shut.

When she heard the brig doors behind her _swoosh_ shut, and the magnetic locks click she stepped forward and stopped. She looked down at the side bulkhead, around the room, and up to the monitoring station. She closed her eyes and shook her head and moved forward until she was standing in front of the monitors.

Slowly she cycled through the prisoners. There were three confined to a common brig cells for disorderly conduct, one for assault, one on suicide watch and currently restrained, and one from Carter's failure to de-condition all of the prisoners Cynet had abused.

On the last monitor there was a long-term holding cell with a bed, a toilet and privacy screen, a desk, chair, books, and a computer. At the chair was Gina Inviere. Cain narrowed her eyes. She felt the betrayal of Gina still inside her. She'd shared so much and _it_ had taken her trust and betrayed her.

The hand which had been resting on the monitoring station reflexively moved to her pistol. The bio-Cylon prisoner was still a valuable resource, an intelligence asset. But Cain couldn't stop her hand from tightening across the grip of her pistol and unfastening the clasp. When she heard the _pop_ sound from the clasp she looked down and snorted. She put it back on. As she looked up she saw Gina staring into the camera.

Somehow the bio-Cylon always knew when she was there. It made Cain's skin crawl. She felt cold watching those blue eyes, partially obscured by the long dirty-blond hair, stare up at her. Gina had been growing her hair out. Cain clenched her jaw, asking herself why Gina was doing that.

The eerie sense that the watcher was the one being watched was too much. She tried to turn away, but her eyes were stuck on the monitor. Cain could feel the air drying her eyes and she tried to blink but couldn't. Even in the pitch black of Cain's quarter she always felt Gina knew when she was watching.

"_Admiral Cain, please report to CIC. Admiral Cain to CIC,"_ Lt. Hoshi's voice blared over the ship intercom system.

Sneering at the monitor Admiral Cain turned quickly, her hair arcing around a second later, and she marched out of the brig.

* * *

Admiral Cain had quickly entered the CIC and stalked to the command console. She waited patiently, only a few seconds really, until Major Adama turned from Lt. Hoshi's station, walked opposite her and rendered a salute. She returned it with a crisp, precise salute of her own. Once she dropped her salute she discreetly moved her hand to her hip.

The torture from New Caprica was still wrecking havoc on her body. Doctor Cottle and Roberts had said there was nothing wrong; nerve conduction tests had been normal, and imaging studies show no impingement or abnormalities. They said it was psychosomatic; imaginary.

She breathed out slowly and discreetly. "What do we have, Major?" she asked.

"Sir, the Raptor recon just returned from their mission. They've sent us these images," Major Adama reported as he keyed in commands for the recon images to flash on the hanging monitors. "They found the marker… it's a 'lion's head'… but," a grin formed on Adama's face, "it also looks like the Cylons really are in a civil war."

Cain's eyebrows shot up. Surprised, she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head, waiting for an explanation. "Major?"

"We're still receiving the data packets, sir, but it looks like the Cylons were going at it. Athena is reporting multiple nuclear detonations," Adama reported. He keyed in further commands on the central console and brought up the intelligence photos. He sent more images to the overhead monitors and the command console below them.

Reaching down he double tapped an image, enlarging it and selecting a market tool, highlighted the high resolution photographs the Raptors were able to take.

Cain took out her red-handled pocket knife and switched it over and pointed to the assembled vessels. "There's got to be dozens of baseships, resurrection vessels, and supports in that battle… my Gods, Major." Cain shook her head in disbelief. "Now we have confirmation, not just garbled and encrypted wireless ghosts."

She brought her razor back and with a light _click_ closed the blade back into the handle. Gently, she set it down on the console and leaned forward, studying the images.

Lieutenant Hoshi had moved over from his station and was standing at the Admiral's side. "Sir," he said, to get her attention from the cycling photographs. "Captain Shaw reports she and Carter have extrapolated a set of jump coordinates to view the battle utilizing-"

"Yes, light speed lag," Cain said, nodding and cutting him off.

Discreetly she shook her left hand and rubbed her pinky finger. For some reason it was hurting worse today than it usually did. Cain kept her eyes on the pictures cycling down on the command console as she rubbed her pinky finger between the thumb and index finger of her right hand.

"The coordinates they provided will take a few hours to reach, sir. I'd recommend we begin jump prep immediately," Lt. Hoshi advised.

Cain bit her lower lip. The possibility to watch this battle was too good to pass up for her and the fleet. They'd never been able to utilize light speed lag before, because their battles always left them running and jumping in random directions (as long as it was_ away_ from the Cylons) after battles.

"Lieutenant Hoshi, get me _Galactica _and _Helios_."

"Aye, sir," he responded and walked back to his console.

* * *

Admiral Cain, Major Adama, Starbuck, Captain Shaw, John, and Carter were standing in a rough triangle formation in the operations center behind _Pegasus_ CIC. Cain was, of course, in the front and center of the triangle standing tall with one hand by her side and her hand resting comfortable on her pistol.

The command staffs of the battlestars were teleconferencing, which Admiral Cain preferred. It allowed her to see those she was talking to and pick up any slight twitch or jerk which could alert her to the emotional and mental state of her commanders.

On the large monitors in front of them were the images of Commander Adama with Athena and Helo on the left, and on the right was Major Avion and Captain Vansen.

"_I agree completely, Admiral, we cannot pass up this opportunity_," Commander Adama said. He'd brought his hand to his chin to think. "_What about the possibility of salvage operations?"_

"_Sir, if they use a considerable amount of nukes there could be significant damage from ammunition and tyllium cooking off," _Athena explained. She was still in her flight suit, but the zipper was down to the center of her chest. _"The missiles are stored in the pylons. We'd have to conduct inspections."_ She hand her arms folded across her chest and seemed distracted.

"If we begin our jump preparations we should have two and a quarter hours before the light passes that position Carter and I indicated," Captain Shaw said. She had to raise her voice slightly for the microphones to pick up her voice.

"Athena," Cain said. The bio-Cylon's head popped up and she dropped her hands to her side in an ease position. "If they split evenly down the model lines, what would the composition and assets be of the Twos, Sixes, and Eights?"

"_I'm sorry, sir, I don't know. A few dozen baseships with resurrection vessels and support ships added in… when I was training, they kept a lot of this information compartmentalized… just in case I was uh, captured. Sir." _She sounded embarrassed.

Helo stood next to her, their shoulders touching.

"_When Boomer and I were crashing onto Caprica, sir, there were a dozen baseships in orbit we could detect. The planet obscured DRADIS, and we came in on the day side. But where she and I landed, the central continent, it had the large cities and military centers, sir,"_ Helo added.

"Major Avion?" Cain asked, turning her head and directing her attention to him for a moment.

"_The Guardians kept us close to their facilities. We had long range DRADIS contact with a few baseships and were attacked by a small force shortly after the bombardment."_

Admiral Cain let her shoulders drop.

"Very well… Commander Adama, I need as much firepower to go in to this as we can spare, so I'm going to take _Galactica_ with me. If there are any Cylon survivors we'll identify them, and if necessary, destroy them." She smirked. "Maybe it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. Commander, leave half a squadron and two Raptors to aide _Helios_ in CAP duties. Commander Cyrus informed me he was needed at his command facility," she said, looking down with furled eyebrows, thinking of what would be so urgent. "I'll have Lt. Hoshi contact the remaining baseship and have them increase their cap as well." She looked down at her watch. "The next jump is in forty minutes. Major Avion, proceed with the scheduled jumps. Once we make contact I'll send a Raptor back to report."

"_Admiral," _Commander Adama said, "_the President said she would like to accompany this mission with us."_

"Very well, Bill," Cain nodded. She looked away and felt like a heavy hand had just gut-punched her. The day was not working out well for her. The physical, 'imaginary' pain from her torture, and now she may have to deal with the President. She made a mental note to sweep her arms across her work desk in her quarters in a fit of frustration later, after the mission. "We'll jump in fifteen minutes, Commander. Major, you have command of the fleet until we return."

"_Aye, sir_," came over the teleconferencing speakers simultaneously.

First Commander Adama's image went blank, then Major Avion's, then the screen on _Pegasus_ went first into '_standby'_ then turned off with a soft double beep.

In the second between the images of the commanders of _Galactica _and_ Helios_ disappearing, John and Carter began a wireless conversation.

"_John, I think we should explain to Admiral Cain about the problems we're experiencing when jumping."_

"_It happened again,"_ John stated over his wireless. "_So it's happening at the markers. Your experience at the Lion head Nebula proves our suspicions, then."_

"_I believe that is the case," Carter said._

"_Then we should inform the Admiral of our suspicions," John declared. "Hopefully we will be able to learn more from the battle. I will inform the Admiral."_

Major Adama and Starbuck had already left the operations center and as Admiral Cain turned, saw them turn themselves towards the hanger bay. Captain Shaw, John, and Carter were still present, standing behind her. Captain Shaw stood stiff, as usually, with her hands held tight behind her back. Carter stood with his hands at his side, with a slight bend in his elbows, almost with a slight hint of impatience. And she noticed John standing straight with his shoulders back, and a worried expression on his face.

"Admiral Cain, I think there is something you should be made aware of…" John began.

It was Admiral Cain's turn to tilt her head in confusion and anticipation as she heard those words.

* * *

"Starbuck, Starbuck, Starbuck… what am I going to do with you?" Major Adama asked as he looked behind his shoulder into the corridor. No one was there, so he moved slightly closer to his wife until their shoulders touched.

Her hand brushed against his, but he brought his closer to his side in playful defiance. He felt her hand searching for his again, but he put it in his pocket.

Starbuck laughed and brought her left hand back and punched Apollo on the shoulder.

"What are you going to do with me, Apollo? What am I going to do with you?" She shot him a look, trying to keep serious.

They passed the tram station which would take them down to the starboard flight pod, opting instead to walk. While no Cylons had been chasing them for months, they were still kept apart most of the day with conflicting duty schedules and functions.

The ship would take two hours to reach the position Carter and Captain Shaw had indicated would be optimal for viewing the battle, and that would still give them hours until the light actually reached them. There wasn't an immediate rush.

"I missed you at Triad the other night, Lee," Starbuck said, leaning in closer to him.

"Yeah?" He grunted. "You'd just take all my money. And spend it. All women seem to take their husband's money," he smiled and tensed the right side of his body, readying for the hit.

Starbuck bit down on her lower lip and looked at him out of the corner of her left eye. She sighed and rubbed her right eye with a balled fist, and as soon as she saw Apollo relax again, let out a quick and swift elbow.

"Learnin'," she commented. His arm had moved ever so slightly to block her attempt.

"I learn from the best," he grinned. "You're going to have to be careful out there. You'll have to watch out for munitions cooking off, fuel, debris…"

Now she looked behind her shoulder. Since they had skipped the tram station, and this corridor had nothing but storage she leaned in and put her arm around his waist.

"Well… you can always make me XO and I'll make you CAG…"

"Are you referring to this or something else…?" Apollo grinned.

"We'll see." She turned and winked at him.

* * *

==========Rebel Cylon Baseship (2.5 Hours Prior to _Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula_)==========

Natalie sat alone in her private office behind the baseship command bridge staring solemnly and quietly down at her desk and the flickering data stream ports. Off to her side was a glass of water, and she absent mindedly and slowly ran her finger around the brim as she continued her staring.

She brought her left arm up and rested her elbow on the edge of the white table, and let her chin fall into her palm. Rubbing the side of her nose, she began to once again run through the events she had seen in her encounter with the hybrid.

The most troubling words the hybrid had spoken were "_…three will walk in the fires of the furnace…"_. As much as she had thought about those nine words there was no meaning in them. No meaning she wanted to realize.

"_You need to tell me what the hybrid showed you_," she remembered Leoben saying.

She'd woken up with him cradling her head in his arms. She appreciated his concern and his caring. His model had always been different from the others. He was caring and kind, but also prone to obsession. Natalie smiled to herself; she assumed that was why the Twos were the best engineers in the Cylon armada.

The hybrid had said the "…_gateway of the lost will show damnation and survival…"_ and that statement had been haunting her. A chill ran down her spine, followed by reflexive warmth. The gateway, she thought was the Tomb of Athena, the tomb she had ordered destroyed weeks ago.

Could she have destroyed the only key to Earth? The Colonials had found the tomb, but other than that, the Cylons knew nothing. Six had reported a pilot, Kara Thrace, with the Arrow of Apollo. But the resources of the Cylon empire, poured into the Tomb, had revealed nothing to them.

She took her hand and massaged her tired eyes and blinked them rapidly to wet them. She had been staring and thinking with such focus she'd forgotten to blink.

The bio-Cylon let out a long, deep sigh from her nostrils and placed her hands in her lap. She began projecting to calm herself down and clear her mind. She had spent hours strategizing with her command staff and the other baseship commanders and had gone without sleep for days. Her enhanced physiology could handle the stress, but it would begin to show soon.

She saw herself in a forest, sitting on a cool wood bench at the edge of a small clearing. Looking up she could see the distant bright orange-yellow sun of Cyrannus. She was on Caprica. While she'd never set foot on the planet before its destruction, it was her favorite. In her projection, even the circulated and purified air of the baseship smelled natural, woody, and damp.

The forest, it was the favorite projection of the Sixes. And as relaxing as it was to feel the damp leave between her toes and the cool dirt, Natalie could not distract herself from the necessity of her duties.

A table appeared in front of the bench. On it were papers and reconnaissance photographs. The objects weren't real; they were merely representations of data being downloaded into her mind, since she had placed her hand back into her desk's data stream port.

Two more jumps and her forces should rendezvous with the majority of fleet assets available to the 'rebels.' She would need to speak with Miranda about the destruction of the Tomb of Athena once they jumped in.

Natalie felt a slight click in her jaw, an old injury from a minor battle a few weeks ago. She'd been injured and had fallen, hard, into the data stream port in the command bridge. Before the civil war she could have been euthanized for even minor injuries and downloaded into a new body. But the husks needed to be preserved. Because of that, there were dozens of Twos, Sixes, and Eights on her baseship alone walking around with casts or braces from injuries they had received in battles.

Everyone needed to sacrifice. A clicking jaw from a hairline fracture was minor compared to what some of her brother and sister Cylon had to endure.

Once the fleet jumped to the supposed location of a '_…great lion with a mighty blinking eye…'_ (which the Cylons had already assumed would be a nebula) she would be able to see her friends and fellow commanders. She was eager to hear updates from Meredith and how she was handling command of her own baseship contingent.

Natalie changed the scenery around her, and without blinking the desk had vanished, the papers and photographs were gone, and she was now sitting on the bank of a quiet, peaceful stream.

She knelt down and placed her hand in a cold stream of water and pressed down until she could feel the cool, algae-covered rocks glide over her palm. The cool water sent a tingle up her arm and into her mind, and she could feel the baseship and everyone inside. She let her mind connect more deeply to the data stream.

Looking down into the stream she moved her hand over the rocks, gently shifting them back and forth, accessing different ship systems. She stopped when she felt a hard, jagged rock. If she wrapped her fingers around it she'd cut herself, and even feeling it she could see trickles of blood washing away under the surface of the stream.

It was the hybrid's connection to the data stream. It was her representation in Natalie's forest.

She let her hand glide over it.

The words the hybrid had shouted echoed through her mind with a clarity matched only by this projected stream. _"…three will walk in the fires of the furnace… gateway of the lost will lead to damnation and survival… from where the ground will shake the trumpet shall sing death … their great signs will bring destruction… the false prophets… all of this has happened before… this does not have to happen again… end of line, end of line, end of line… ready to jump… end of line… by your command… ready to jump… by your command…"_

She wrinkled her nose as she thought what she should do next. Her head tilted left and right and her eyes narrowed and her brow came down as she stared through the water at the distorted image of her hand and that jagged, black rock she was barely touching.

With the drops of blood forming their own stream under the water, coiling and gliding in the soft current, she was being subtly warned to not probe any further. The hybrid had her defenses, her privacy, and she did not share her mind like this.

But the image of the silhouette, the humans and machines alike grabbing at her ankles, and the deafening _crack_ of the gunshot from her… hallucination… vision… whatever it was, was clear in her thoughts and haunting her steps.

A Cylon was afraid of dying. She was afraid of her own mortality. She knew there would be no resurrection for her if that event came to be. In the young Cylon, released from cloning tanks barely two decades prior, the thought of dying had been nothing more than a whimsical, philosophical 'what if.' Now it was very real.

And if she could probe further… she grabbed the rock and felt… nothing. Then she felt pain as the blood began to flow more freely from her palm. The stream turned red and without any further drama she was forcefully disconnected from the data stream and the whites, blues, and reds of her office presented themselves as a rude taunt of her journey into the forbidden.

She tried to project again, back into the data stream. She could feel the data, the ship sensors, the DRADIS arrays, but she couldn't disappear the too-bright, too-bland personal office and make her forest reveal itself back to her.

If the hybrid was somehow punishing her…

Natalie took her free hand and rubbed it on her mouth and down her chin when she felt the odd sensation of a minute radiation wave from a small FTL jump. With her mind she focused the baseship's sensors and telescopes and realigned the baseship optics until she was focused on the vessel. She connected with the technicians on the command bridge, who were also analyzing the signature.

It was a rebel heavy raider, from Miranda's fleet. Natalie breathed out, hoping to exhale her worries. This was odd. The fleets were not supposed to jump except at designated intervals unless in emergency.

A quick once-over of the heavy raider told Natalie her fears something may be wrong were misplaced. The bulky, spiny craft had no battle damage and was not broadcasting any emergency flashes on its running lights.

Natalie let her body relax as the tension lessened.

"_We're receiving a signal from the heavy raider,"_ Boomer said through the data stream. Natalie could hear the report reverberate directly into her mind. She was seeing and hearing the message as if she were thinking it herself.

"_Natalie, this is Rachel. We've successfully identified the nebula as a marker on the path towards Earth. However, we've also found a probe. Miranda brought it aboard her baseship. It is imperative that I come aboard immediately, Natalie,"_ Rachel communicated through the wireless and into the data stream.

"_Land in the main docking bay… I will be there momentarily, Rachel," _Natalie responded. "_Boomer, Leoben, please meet me in the landing bay."_

* * *

The soft gray-blue corridors of the command baseship were brimming with activity as Natalie expertly maneuvered herself through the crowds of Centurions and bio-Cylons. Those who could see the determination and single-minded focus of her movements were wise to move out of her way and press themselves flat on the bulkheads to keep from being trampled by her.

Repairs were still being conducted throughout the baseship, and the soft colors and wall lighting had been replaced by the orange-red glow and hissing of welding equipment, power tools, and the occasional curse. She passed a work crew of half a dozen Number Twos toiling diligently with a pair of Centurions, which were lifting a heavy support girder back into its position to support the wall.

She gave the work crew a quick glance and increased the height of her step to avoid tripping on heavy black power cables before automatically turning down a side corridor towards the landing bays.

Repairs were still being conducted and completed from the battles her ships had engaged in. Damage had to be repaired in order of importance. And the crew she had just passed was working in a non-vital portion of the ship, and the bulkheads provided no significant structural support to the frame as a whole. While the damage appeared serious, the baseship had already begun 'healing' itself. Except for the girder, most everything else was cosmetic.

"_Rachel's heavy raider has just landed, Natalie. She's powering down and should be on deck when you arrive,_" she heard Leoben whisper in her mind.

She nodded, the gesture just for her own sake, and continued moving quickly towards the hanger bay.

When she arrived she saw the hanger mirrored many of the corridors of the baseship. Months ago supplies were kept out of sight, not strewn about and latched to bulkheads like on Colonial battlestars. But the baseships were taking on as many provisions as they could, with Cavil chasing their fleet and controlling the majority of resupply installations.

The hanger bay, an odd construct and mix-match of organic and technological components, was still overcrowded with raiders being repaired by Number Twos and Centurions offloading equipment, munitions, and supplies from the heavy raider ferries from the supply ships.

Her link to the baseship guided her steps through the overcrowded, musty and humid hangers, and directly to where Rachel had landed. Her impecible navigation kept her from wander aimlessly looking for where Rachel's heavy raider would have landed, in a sea of dozens of identical vessels and swarms of bio-Cylon and Centurion scurrying about.

She saw Rachel, who also caught her eye, and the bio-Cylon next to the heavy raider smiled. Natalie maintained her impassive expression. If this was an emergency, Rachel did not appear anxious as the rebel leader would have expected. Natalie dearly hoped for Rachel than whatever news she carried was worth making the day of a rebel leader even more stressful.

"Rachel, it's good to see you," Natalie said, her voice flat. Her lips and face were completely expressionless, like her face were a mask. Once she had stepped closer to Rachel, she could see minute concerns and worry on her face. Rachel was one of Miranda's best soldiers, so with a moment to clear her mind, Natalie knew this would be important. "Leoben, Boomer," she greeted the Two and the Eight with a head nod.

"Miranda sent this message for you," Rachel said, digging into her pant pocket, she retrieved a small file card.

"What is it?"

"We found a probe, Natalie. We brought it aboard Miranda's baseship and connected it to our data cores… The encryption is heavy, unlike anything we've seen... we've been working at it for hours and when I left the baseship was still trying to find a way in… But it's from the Thirteenth Tribe. We think it will tell us the way to Earth." Rachel reported with a cautious smile. She took a step back and patiently waited for Natalie to respond.

Natalie nodded and ball the file card in her hand. She pumped her hand up and down, deciding what to do with the data. The words of the hybrid echoed in her mind; '…_their great signs will bring destruction…'. _A great sign, from a lion's head…?

"Thank you, Rachel." She turned towards Boomer. She stared at the petite Model Number Eight for a few short seconds, her eyes were distant and like glass as she decided the next move. "Boomer, access the data stream and order a halt to resupply. We jump for the nebula immediately."

* * *

A/N:

The _Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula_ will appear next chapter. I'd originally planned on John-Cyrus-Daniel talking last chapter, but couldn't get it finished. I wanted Cyrus to be more pragmatic than the public idealist. The deal he and Planck made is genuine. I'm changing what the probe is from how it was presented in the show. So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I should have the next fairly quick, and please read and review and leave any constructive criticisms. Thank you.

I'm also working on the story of Omega Team and their mission to stop Skynet before it infiltrated the Cylon Network. It'll most likely be a bit longer than the one with the three terminators in Athens. I hope to have that posted between Parts II and Part III of this story.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I tried a different naming scheme for the baseships. If the baseship squadron is under the command of Sonja (she was the Six who led the rebels after Athena shot Natalie in the series), the baseships are _Sierra One, Sierra Two, _etc. If they are raider squadrons assigned to Sonja, they would be _Sierra Roma One, Sierra Roma Two, etc._ The _Roma_ is 'R' for Raider. All Cynet baseships and raider squadrons are designated _Charlie-# or Charlie Roma-#_.

* * *

==========Rebel Command Baseship (30 Minutes Prior to _Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula_)==========

Natalie recited the words of the hybrid one more time, slowly; _"…three will walk in the fires of the furnace… gateway of the lost will lead to damnation and survival… from where the ground will shake the trumpet shall sing death… "_. Looking down at the probe and the half dozen wires connecting it to the baseship computers and data stream, she couldn't help but wonder…

"_The probe is emitting a signal, hard to detect. But it's there. Whatever its emitting… however it's emitting it… I have no idea_," Miranda had said to Natalie fifteen minutes ago. Natalie frowned as she repeated those words, and the words of the hybrid.

"_The probe is emitting a signal… from where the ground will shake the trumpet shall sing death…"_. Rubbing the right side of her temple Natalie didn't understand how the hybrid could have seen this. Was it… was it… she couldn't think clearly.

She ran her eyes along the access panels and bobbed her head down and crouched slightly to get a better view of the little bits of gel still leaking from the sides of the small probe. It couldn't be more than a meter and a half long. "_The probe is emitting a signal, hard to detect… the trumpet shall sing death… the trumpet shall sign death…"_, was all Natalie could think about.

"Were these red lights on when you found the probe?" She asked, raising back to her full height. Feeling a chill she rubbed her forearms with opposite hands. Miranda kept her baseships slightly cooler than Natalie preferred. And the main computer/technical lab the probe was in was chilled for the computers.

She made a note to make sure she wore a jacket when coming aboard any of Miranda's three ships next time.

"Yes, Natalie, they were. But… we can't find a power source. We think it's in there," Miranda motioned with her hand at the center of the probe, "but whatever that gel is, we don't want to disturb it, not yet. Michael is analyzing a sample right now," she said.

Natalie nodded. Michael was an able-bodied Two, intelligent. With no Simons on board the science fell to three models not really designed for it. The Sixes excelled at almost anything they did, but the Simons had been built with a specific knack for technology.

Leoben leaned in close to Natalie. She could feel his hot breath on her ear and she looked over towards him with a wary glance from the corner of her eye.

"Natalie," he whispered. "We need to tell them about what the hybrid said, and what you saw in your vision." He leaned back, but his hand was still on the back on her upper arm. With a gentle squeeze of her triceps he tried to reassure her, tried to tell her it was okay to share what she had seen.

He thought it was wonderful, something new and exciting, a stage in the ever evolving relationship with God. But all she'd seen was death. The whole… wherever she had been was strewn with bodies; biological and technological alike. She'd been in such a daze, and it'd been so, so dark, she couldn't see anything. She didn't want to go back there.

Within a few seconds, and a brief fit of hesitation Natalie had turned and ticked her head to the side, indicating for Leoben to follow.

"Leoben, please… let's figure out what this probe is before I tell them. I _will_ tell them, when the time's right." Leoben gave her a look. "I will. I promise." She smiled.

"I don't want to see you carry this on your own, Natalie." He said reassuring her. "We need to be as open as possible with our brothers and sisters," he said, concerned, and furling down his brow. His frown was telling of how much he disapproved of not telling the others immediately. "But I… understand," he said again, forcing a quick, though cautious smile.

"What have you decrypted?" Boomer asked, standing over the probe next to Miranda. She placed her hand in a connected data stream port and the activation colors flashed on her dark skin and eyes, illuminating them in a small bath of light. Sighing, she withdrew her hand. "Nothing…" she said, trailing off disappointed.

"Are you positive this was left by the Thirteenth?" Natalie asked, stepping back towards the probe, Leoben by her side. "Absolutely positive as in, this is not a trick by Cavil?"

She could already tell by the state the probe was in, the strange data encryption, and the even more strange and odd power source meant this couldn't be a Cynet/Cavil plot. The number Six just needed to hear it from her sister that it wasn't. She just needed the reassurance, something definite, something concrete after her existential, jarring experience with the hybrid.

This time, Rachel answered. "We're positive, Natalie. Our preliminary dating shows this is thousands of years old, at least four, maybe five. Once Michael is done analyzing the samples of the gel and the bit we nicked off, we should have a more definite answer."

"Why would they leave a probe here? Why not somewhere else as a marker? We're so many light years from Kobol, the chances of finding this were…" Leoben trailed off. He cupped his chin in his hand to think. Keeping his head still and his body stiff he ran his dark eyes up and down the small probe, starting at the 'fat', glowing end and working down to the 'tail', thinner end. There had to be a reason.

"Astronomically small," Boomer said, her voice low. "If this is a probe to Earth, why encrypt the data so heavily?"

Miranda shrugged and Natalie, Leoben, and Rachel just stood there, watching the probe like it was going to sprout legs and try and escape.

"Maybe this has something to do with the Earth machines?" Boomer suggested after a minute of silence.

Natalie's ears flickered when she heard that question. For some reason, almost beyond her control, she began projecting. She saw herself back in the hybrid's chamber, the hybrid laying still in her tub, reciting useless facts after the state of the baseship and blabbering about pi, trigonometry, other kinds of math, physics, and status reports on the baseships. She thought about what the hybrid said of the '…_three_…'.

"We shouldn't involve them," Miranda said divisively. She knew Natalie had pushed, hard, for an alliance with the Colonials and the Terminators, but Miranda had lost any faith in them over the past months. "They stayed with the humans. We can do this and find Earth ourselves." She waved her hand dismissively to show how little she cared for the Earth terminators.

"And do you think their leader… will… what?" Boomer began, "Just accept us? They find out we killed 20 billion humans they'll just what? Let us settle? Yes, let's fight them with millions of those terminators… we'll only need billions of Centurions to fight them," Boomer said sarcastically with an added huff and cross of her arms.

Miranda shot her a death glare. "We destroy Skynet infrastructure from orbit, let them use our heavy raiders for transport… they'll have no choice after we show them what we can do," Miranda shot back.

Boomer rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Changing her weight between her left foot and right, then back again, Miranda could see the Eight was annoyed. She shot her a look daring her to object. As the 'leader' of the Eights Boomer had considerable leverage, but Miranda was a taskforce commander, and in the complicated internal political landscape and military hierarchy, was of a higher 'rank' than the glaring Eight.

Unexpectedly, Boomer held her ground and responded to Miranda's offensive pronouncement.

"You haven't live with humans, Miranda," Boomer said, her voice low but filled with anger. "I was with them for years… years." Images of the Chief flashed in her mind. "The Earth machines chose to fight with them because they-"

"You're constant reminder of your time in the Colonial fleet… and you're dislike of your own species is telling," sneered Miranda. "Of course an Eight would be the most sympathetic, after all with '_Athena_' and-"

Boomer took a step forward.

"This is ridiculous… enough," Natalie ordered. She held out her hand and was pointing at Miranda and back to Boomer. "Whatever we decide to do doesn't matter _right now unless we figure out what the probe says_. We need answers, and we need them soon."

Rachel placed her hand in the data stream, but nothing happened. "What?" She withdrew her hand and looked at it curiously, flipping it between palm and backside, then palm again. She placed it back it and felt the cool conducting gel, and the red and blue lights flared in her eyes and danced across her face, but the cold sensation which should be running up her arm and into her mind was still absent. "What's the matter with this?" She asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not getting anything, nothing." She stepped back and let her hand hang limp at her side. She drummed her fingers against her pistol holster and stared down at the data stream port. It had gone back into standby. "This doesn't make sense."

Natalie cocked her head in confusion. Wanting answers she stomped to the data stream port, walking to the right of the probe, taking the 'long' way around so she would brush past both Miranda at the 'tail' end of the probe, and Boomer standing in front of the central portion. She looked each of her sister's over as she stalked over to the port and placed her hand in.

In the few minutes the bio-Cylons had been looking at the probe, debating what to do, and Six and Eight almost resorting to a physical confrontation, the power computers in the baseship had been slowly attempting to decrypt the signal and data from the probe.

"It's not finished… it's not even at a quarter of a percent," Rachel said, accessing a status update through the baseship. That information was so trivial it meant nothing. She tilted her head down towards her left shoulder and her left eye closed slightly. "I can't access the actual data over our wireless connections either…"

Miranda grimaced. Shaking her head she was about to speak, but bit down softly on her lower lip. She looked up towards the ceiling, mimicking the human mannerism of looking 'up' when searching or confused.

"It would have to be an overwhelming amount of data if we can't access it. The hybrid must be screening it, filtering it," she shrugged.

"But the data stream port not working?" Rachel twisted her body and held out her hand and arm, motioning towards all the other data ports in the room. "There's a dozen active ports in here. Why not this one? Natalie?"

A 'data dump' could overwhelm the silica relays and silica nodes grown into a developing bio-Cylon's brain during artificial gestation. A data dump could cause an overload and possible coma. Such occurrences had been common in the Ones and Twos before the process and filtering by the hybrid had been in place.

"Natalie, do you see anything?" Leoben asked, side-stepping closer to her. He made sure to step over the large data cables running from the make-shift connectors in the data ports of the probe, down and across the floor, and into the main conduits for baseship data flows.

Natalie's brow had furled down before arching back up, followed by a confused looked on her face changing quickly into intrigue.

She reacted slowly to Leoben's question.

"I… there is a word which keeps repeating in the Ancient language spoken on Kobol," she reported. She was looking out across the probe towards Miranda, but the bio-Cylon's eyes were glazed like glass, and her look completely blank. She was deep in the data stream, with the physical world only a shadowy representation.

She could hear and feel, but her other sensations were overwhelmed by the data flowing into her mind.

"The word… _τάφος'_ πύ, it has different meanings in the context it's used in… 'temple' or 'tomb' or 'gateway.' But… that's all I'm getting. There's almost nothing else. There is so… there is so much but so little…" Natalie said, trailing off. She felt more information being sent from the data port into her mind, but she was so focused on the possible meaning of the word… she saw it as 'tomb'… the '_Tomb'_ of Athena?

"What do you mean?" Boomer asked quietly. She looked at Natalie suspiciously, believing she may be withholding vital information. "Natalie…"

"What do you mean there's almost nothing else? Just the quarter percent completed is almost overwhelming out computers!" Rachel protested. Miranda nodded her agreement with her soldier. "Natalie, what's going on?"

She withdrew her hand.

Leoben went over and placed his hand in after hers, but just like Rachel, nothing happened. The stand by lights flickered and reflected in his eye, but no data was downloaded through his silica relays into his mind. Shooting up, his mouth hung open slightly as he stared at his Cylon sister in confusion.

"I don't know… like I said… there was so much, but so little. I think the data just repeats, something about a temple or a tomb or gateway, some sort of… I don't know, a _something_." She looked down and shook her head.

"A tomb? A tomb?" Miranda said, picking up on the word Natalie had rushed over, and repeated in shock. "Like the Tomb of Athena? The tomb I destroyed with a hundred megatons of nukes?"

Natalie shrugged sheepishly, like her deepest secret had been exposed. Her face flushed red in embarrassment and regret over the orders.

"Wait," Boomer held up her hand and looked towards Miranda. "You destroyed the Tomb?"

"Orders," Miranda responded, fixing her eyes on Natalie.

Natalie looked up at them all. "Yes, I ordered it," she said definitely. The tone of her voice even surprised her. "We couldn't go back. Our destiny is with _Earth_, not the old worlds, not the Colonies and definitely _not Kobol_." She balled her fists. "I ordered it because it was useless," she said, doubting if she believed it herself. "We didn't have the Arrow of Apollo and we never would; the Colonials would _never_ give it to us and would _never_ return to Kobol. Cavil controlled it. You had only four baseships, we never could have gotten control. How could we use the Tomb?"

"But we destroyed the Tomb," Miranda repeated.

"The hybrid wouldn't've, didn't-"

"What? What hybrid?" Miranda asked, her eyes wide. She took a step forward and placed her hands down on the 'tail' of the probe. "What hybrid?"

Natalie looked over towards Leoben, searching his eyes for a quiet look of reinforcement. He gave it to her with a small, subtle nod.

"I saw the hybrid a few days ago."

"Now you're believing the Twos and their… radical dogma about the hybrids? That they commune with God?" Miranda accused, throwing up her hands in frustration. "God doesn't talk to us like that. _Not_ like that," Miranda repeated with force. Her eyes darted between Leoben and Natalie.

Boomer and Rachel moved off to stand to the side, wanting nothing to do with this.

"I saw the hybrid… she told me things… things that… a _trumpet_ would sound, she said." Natalie had difficulty repeating what the hybrid had told her. "I'll… send to you what the hybrid told me."

Miranda nodded and opened the locks on her mind. She felt the data and the slight cool tingle in the back of her mind as Natalie sent only the words of the hybrid, no images, no visions, to Miranda.

"You think this probe is it?" She asked, shaking her head. She was rubbing her forearm now, nervous over the words Natalie had sent. "But we're not on ground, we're in space. We found the probe in-"

"_DRADIS contacts!"_ shouted a Six through the baseships wireless. "_Cynet fleet detected fifteen thousand kilometers from fleet!"_

_  
"Launch fighters, order fleet into formation Indigo Three!"_ Natalie shouted back.

"We need to get back to our baseship," Leoben said.

Natalie shook her head, grabbing his arm. "No time. Sonja will take command of the ship," she said hurriedly. "Miranda, I'm taking command of the fleet from here." Miranda nodded. "Let's go."

The five bio-Cylons ran to the command bridge.

* * *

==========Cynet Baseship (10 Minutes Prior to _Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula_)==========

Cavil sat quietly in his personal office, snapping his fingers quietly. He sat back in his hard backed chair with his right ankle resting on his left knee and stared out at the opposite wall. The lights were low, and the sparse furniture was casting a long shadow from the red lights behind him.

He had a tickle on the bottom of his nose and brought his hand up to rub it then continued with the motion to rub his forehead.

"_War… ninety-nine percent of it is hurry up and wait…"_ he said to himself quietly.

He accessed a limited amount of data, wirelessly, with his mind and let his brown eyes glaze over and become distant. He lost focus on his desk as he let the voices of the Centurions, the other Ones, the Fours, and the Fives flood into his mind. They were just whispers and were faint shadows of what was capable if he decided to reach out his hands, which were beginning to dry in the cool, but stale air of the baseship, and place them in the data stream port on his desk.

Bringing his hands up to his chest, he locked his fingers. He couldn't remember where he heard it, but he began humming something he'd heard in the Colonies. As he was dropping his deep hum to a mimic a dropped C#m, he felt the cold tingle of his overseer emerge. "_… hm hm hm hmlief…"_

"_You're bored, Cavil," _Cynet said as its greeting.

"It's war," Cavil responded dryly. Licking dried lips he brought a small glass up and took a sip of water. "I have fifty heavy raiders scouting for the rebels." He looked up and around the room and noticed some of the lights had increased in their intensity. The colored stripes were glowing brighter now.

"_Of course. Soon the war will be over. The rebels are gathering their fleet and we'll strike. The Three will be dead and the rebels on the verge of extinction by the end of the day. And that will be their fate."_

The pronouncement echoed in Cavil's mind with a strength and power he'd never experienced from his watcher before.

Cavil rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow and bobbed his head down.

"Once they're defeated, what do you plan on doing with the Fours and the Fives?"

"_They will have their uses,"_ Cynet replied ambiguously.

Cavil sighed at the vague response. For an entity which shared his mind, he could never know it like it knew him. And that bothered him. Just a little, but it did bother him.

The One felt a tingle, not from Cynet, but from a data report streaming into his mind. He placed his hand in the data port and felt the sensors and scanners of the baseship and saw through its telescopes as a heavy raider jumped in.

A Centurion was piloting.

"_The main rebel fleet has been located,"_ the Centurion reported over the wireless.

"_Now it's time to end them Cavil," _Cynet demanded. _"We will end them together, Cavil, you will be my sword,"_ Cynet pronounced. "_It is time to end this piddling charade. Jump this fleet"_

_

* * *

  
_

==========Rebel Command Baseship, _Lion's Head Nebula==========_

The hallways and corridors had dimmed. The silent alarms, blaring in the minds of thousands of Cylons alerted them all to the intrinsic threat materializing in space, readying for combat. The metallic boots of the Centurions reverberated through the cavernous passageways. Hundreds, thousands of bio-Cylons were arming themselves and preparing their sections for damage and combat.

Before Natalie had stepped foot in the command bridge, she felt hundreds of her raiders and heavy raiders departing from the small slits at the base of the central column and darting out from the central hanger bays. Her fleet was trained well, and their tactics and strategies were written in blood and imprinted in their minds.

She ran towards the command station and reached out with a flash and a blur of her arm as another Six threw her a gun belt. With an expert precision she clipped it around her waist. It was already a perfect fit. She decided not to clip the holster strap to her lower thigh. No time.

"What's the status?" She asked a Centurion, GY-X410.

"_Fleet has assumed defensive formation Indigo Three. All resurrection vessels and supply ships are in the rear of the formation. Supply vessels will be jumping momentarily, resurrection vessels and _Ida_ formation will be jumping in ten seconds,"_ the Centurion responded over wireless.

Natalie gave a forceful nod as she marched towards the central command console data stream. Taking a deep breath she plunged her right hand into the cool, clear gel and let it seep into her pores and connect the console to her silica relays to her brain. The cold, tingling sensation of data began to fill her arm through the data stream and she could see the fleet.

_Indigo Three_ was a hybrid formation meant for rapid offensive deployment. The fleet broke into three bodies, horizontal, three dimensional triangles with the apex pointed towards from the Cynet fleet and the ships arranged in three lines at congruent angles positioned behind the apex.

The center formation, designated _Mike,_ was comprised of twelve baseships and three anti-fighter support ships, under the command of Miranda. The two flanking formations were commanded by the fierce and aggressive Sonja, designated _Sierra_, with nine baseships and two support ships and the cool and calculating Lacy, commanding eight baseships and three anti-fighter support ships, formation designation _Lima_.

Natalie focused her mind as she took overall command. Miranda, on her right, was one of her best Six commanders. Leoben, on her left she trusted with her life and she would rely on his keen mind and attention to detail to survive this battle and find any Cynet tricks. Across from her Boomer would coordinate fighter and heavy raider operations with another Eight, Mackenzie.

Isabelle, the fifth Six in command of formation _Icarus_, was now positioned twenty thousand kilometers in the rear with four baseships, two anti-support ships, and the resurrection vessels.

"…_radiation waves detected twenty-one thousand to rear… supply ships have jumped to emergency jump coordinates… Isabelle reports no contact…"_

Natalie nodded and pursed her lips. She wanted to order two resurrection vessels to jump. But if casualties were high, she'd need them all. And she knew this battle would be hard and long. The baseship resurrection capabilities would be filled to capacity by raiders and bio-Cylons dying on the heavy raiders within moments, and if two resurrection vessels jumped, the remaining ones would be forced to automatically purge downloads or face overloads.

She refocused her attention to the blackness of space, now dotted with the silvery-gray and black figures of baseships. Outside the baseship the scene of a once peaceful sector of space was devolving into a hellish nightmare. The raiders from dozens of baseships were on the verge of clashing in the largest battle the Cylons had ever engaged in. Under the watchful eye of the _Lion's Head Nebula_, within its gaping jaw, the fleets of the galaxy's two most powerful factions would decide their fates.

The star shaped, silvery-gray and black armored baseships of Natalie's rebels, slid into weapon's range of Cavil's opposing formation. He had opted to keep his forces in a wall formation of forty baseships and six support ships with a second wall of eighteen baseships and five support ships. His remaining five baseships were positioned twenty-five thousand kilometers behind his main formation, along with reinforced heavy fighter screens, in a flat square protecting six resurrection vessels.

Natalie swept her eyes over the Cynet formation and assigned the designation of _Charlie_, plus a number, to each of the Cynet baseships and support ships. She felt a rush and ping of cold in the back of her neck as she sent out the targeting packages and her attack plan, _Ixion._

Her baseships, in their aggressive _Indigo Three_ formation executed the first stage of attack plan _Ixion _ and hundreds of missiles tubes propelled hundreds of conventional and nuclear missiles at extreme velocities and speed at the Cynet Wall of Battle.

As the missiles lurched forward the raiders and heavy raiders executed the second phase of _Ixion_. Raiders from the flanks swept in and accelerated to maximum as raiders from Miranda's baseships charged the enemy.

The raiders loyal to the Twos, Sixes, and Eights were on the heels of the sacrificial nuclear barrage. The Cynet raiders, even through heavy jamming, would be able to use Cuynet baseship targeting computers and intercept the missiles, launched at extreme range, before contact or proximity fuses would activate.

But Natalie expected this. It would force Cynet raiders out of position. Even with heavy flak and anti-missile missile batteries on the Cynet warships, they could not risk not diverting raiders to intercept nuclear ordnance.

Almost the entirety of first wave of nuclear missiles was struck down, followed quickly by the conventional missiles fired to confuse the Cynet baseships and raiders. In repositioning themselves the Cynet raiders left their dorsal aspects open to a charging run from thousands of rebel raiders, and with autocanons and missiles swarming in, hundreds of Cynet raiders and heavy raiders felt the strings and explosive grips of bullets and missiles. Red, frozen pellets of blood, fresh from the exploded and destroyed brains of Cynet raiders, now dotted and painted the rebel raiders as they sped through the debris field.

Of the dozens of nuclear missiles launched, two successfully penetrating the raiders and Cynet flak screen. Attempting to desparately dodge, two baseships were struck by a missile, one amidship in the central clumn and a second on the ventral disk. The first spun out of control and quickly lost its place in formation while the second was launched at an odd angle up, as its destroyed pylon flew down and clipped a second dorsal pylon. Still intact, the baseship began drifting and spewing debris as hundreds of explosive decompressions ripped through the hull, and thousands of biological and mechanical Cylon alike were flung like rag dolls into space.

The resurrection ships would be very busy that day.

Cynet fired its own missile barrages, concentrating on the center of the _Indigo Three_ formation. The classic Cylon formation placed command ships in the center. And Cynet knew the Sixes. But it didn't know them well enough.

"_Jump Mike formation… 3… 2…. 1… JUMP!"_ Natalie shouted.

The twelve baseships jumped.

"_Jump Sierra and Lima formations… 2… 1… JUMP!" _The Six commander shouted again.

She bit down as she saw the two formations, seventeen ships jumping in winks of blue-white flashes.

The missile barrages of the Cynet baseships flew passed and angled wide. Missiles cart wheeled and tumbled as their electronic locks were thrown off by the disappearance of their targets and the radiation waves from so many FTL jumps. Fail safes and backups resulted in them attempting to find new targets.

The next stage of _Ixion_ was in effect.

Natalie held her breath as she saw the fleet's FTL signatures and DRADIS made contact with her forces. The baseships had all made the jump, though _Mike-Seven_ and _Lima-Three_ were five kilometers out of position. The Six commander tilted her head.

"Impressive," she heard Leoben and Boomer simultaneously compliment her.

She let a little smirk sneak on her lips before washing it away as she reassessed the situation.

_Indigo Three_ had been aligned so the apex of the triangle would strike the wall of the Cynet baseships. It was slightly similar to an old, ancient cavalry charge to break formations. While a baseship could be considered the 'heavy cavalry' of space warfare, space was not the ground.

The manner in which the fleet jumped placed _Mike _formation with the apex of the 3D triangle/pyramid 'behind' the flayed out base of the triangle. This jump allowed the fleet to bypass the strong frontal wall and concentrate, for a few precious minutes, on the rear wall, while the front wall of Cynet was distracted with nearly three-quarters of the rebel's offensive raiders.

The baseships assigned to _Lima_ and _Sierra_ formation, instead of hitting the flanks of the wall, were now on its side, between the main wall and rear wall of Cynet forces. Seven of Sonja's ships were positioned 'behind' the rear wall, with two positioned at the extreme edge to provide anti-missile flak barrages. Lacy's ships were arranged in the same manner, with six primarily positioned to target the rear wall and two to provide anti-fighter and anti-missile flak protection from the main body of Cynet vessels.

_Mike_ formation, with its three arms extending from the apex of the triangle flattened and expanded until her baseships were positioned in which any two rebel baseships could provide overhwleming fire on any single Cynet ship, while the majority of Cynet ships were cut off from receiving fire support.

Natalie quickly selected the target _Mike-One_ and _Mike-Two_ would concentrate their fire one. In a quick mental nod she ordered the missile batteries to empty their missiles into space, target baseship designate _Charlie-50_. With few raiders to stand between the baseship and nearly thirty missiles, a trio struck the central column, a pair struck the ventral disc, and a third pair struck a pylon on the ventral disk, shattering the pylon and sending it tumbling over the ventral disc as internal munitions exploded and tyllium stores ignited.

"_Raider squadron Sierra Roma through Sierra Roma Nine are reporting heavy fire,"_ Boomer reported quickly to Natalie.

"…_Sonja, bring baseship Sierra-3 up two kilometers on X axis, heading three nine seven, carom five-three… explosive decompression detected along ventral pylon three… autoloader seventeen malfunctioning, dispatching Centurion repair crews… missiles inbound… six of seven missiles intercepted… energy buildup detected in Cynet baseships Charlie-23 through 31… Cynet baseships have performed tactical FTL jump… Lacy, redeploy Lima-Seven, Lime-Eight and raider squadron Lime Roma Seven, Eight, and Nine to engage Charlie-23, 24, 27, and 28… Mike formation realign twelve kilometers up across Y axis…"_

Natalie focused a fraction of her mind on the engagement between _Lima-Seven _and _Lima-Eight_ and the corresponding four Cynet baseships.

"…_Mike Roma Nineteen through Twenty-three- anti-missile suppression formations for rear of main formation Mike…_

Their tactical FTL jump had placed them 'above' and 'behind' the main rebel fleet three hundred kilometers and one hundred kilometers on the Z-axis from the center of the formation; Natalie's command baseship.

They would have perhaps three, four, more minutes before Cynet forces overwhelmed them. Tactical FTL jumps were being conducted by hundreds, thousands of fighter craft throughout the battle. But the baseships on both sides were becoming pinned down. As more FTL drives were knocked offline, as they were on six of her baseships, jumping in and out would leave significant holes in their defense screens, and allow Cynet to slowly degrade baseship auto-defenses until missiles broke through.

Concentrating on one part of the battle, Natalie began running through her tactical options.

Above the rebel fleet the Cynet baseship could spin forward on their X axis, like a horizontal wheel, and present a small silhouette to the rebels, and bring to bear their entire missile capabilities on the pronounced surface areas of the dorsal surfaces of the baseships. While the dorsal and ventral aspects were heavily armored in the glittering silver-gray bio-metals, important systems such as DRADIS, primary communications, and resurrection transmitters and receivers were positioned in the dorsal portions above the central column.

Jumping out would leave two ships in the main _Mike_ formation vulnerable, as their FTL drives had been hit by raider missiles. While presenting tactical difficulties, Natalie considered it 'lucky' that the missiles were the smaller raider variants, rather than missiles a dozen times more powerful from baseships. The smaller missiles merely knocked the drives off-line rather than shattering them like anti-ship missiles would have.

Reports indicated that repairs would be complete in minutes.

"_Lacy's ships are defending our back-sides perfectly, Natalie. But the right flank is in danger of falling. We need to redirect fighter squadrons or call in two baseships from the resurrection ships._" Leoben offered as advice.

Natalie realigned her attention away from _Lima-Seven_ and _Lima-Eight_, which were providing an excellent defense. Lacy's commanders were pivoting on their central axis, 'spinning' their baseships and 'wobbling' them to present the least damage aspects of ventral or dorsal surfaces and dancing around in a sphere of the Cynet ships. But with an additional baseship to provide flak suppression and anti-missile protection, _Lima-Two_ and _Lima-Three_ were forced to split their attention between anti-missile activities and anti-ship missile barrages. Their defenses would work, for a while…

Back and focused on the 'right' flank, a relative term in the three dimensional nature of space as the two fleets skipped around and twisted, Natalie assessed the situation. Lacy had already lost one baseship, and Natalie had been forced to reassign _Lima-Three_ and _Lima-Four_ to intercept the three Cynet baseships which had performed a series of confusing FTL hops which had brought them dangerously close to the resurrection ships, which had jumped back another ten thousand kilometers for safety.

The next stage of _Ixion_ would proceed with a mass tactical FTL jump, but edited to take into account the three ships still without FTL drives- Natalie noted _Sierra-Eight_ suffered cataclysmic power core overload and exploded- she edited the plan further to discount _Sierra-Eight-_ an anti-fighter support ship exploded after a Cynet heavy raider was hit in the starboard engine, lost control, and slammed into the engine mounts. She further edited her jump orders.

At this point in the battle Cynet had lost three more baseships and two additional support ships over the rebel forces. But Cynet held the advantage of numbers, and Cavil was not to be underestimated. He was using small formation tactical maneuvering instead of larger formation maneuvering Natalie preferred. She jumped individual baseships in response to Cavil. He jumped his individual ships in response to her mass formation movements.

Natalie noted _Charlie-7, 15, 34, and 45_ of the Cynet fleet were crippled and spilling debris and exploding armored panels into space from fires which swept into the volatile munitions and fuel stores. Of those, _Charlie-7 _and _34_ were still capable of providing significant fire support, and a half dozen missiles she tracked with a fraction of her aware mind, found their marks and destroyed an already wounded squadron of raiders.

A missile barrage made it through the raider screens, which were already being heavily exhausted. Nearly three-quarters of all serviceable raiders were in the fight, and Natalie was readying half of the remaining quarters to launch once _Ixion_ reach its next stage.

The missile barrage Natalie was tracking hit central column, right at the armored seam where the black column met the gray-silver armor of the ventral disk of Mike_-Three_. She zoomed in for a damage assessment, and dozens of lines of information swept through her mind: four hundred and three assumed killed, one hundred and two wounded, missile batteries in ventral disk completely offline, fuel leaks reported in heavy raider hanger bays- three more missiles slammed into the weakened column-disk seam, the first sending more fire and debris into space, the second penetrating even deeper, causing secondary explosions throughout the closest pylon and central column, and the third missile streaking through the cloud of debris, the mist of organic residue and Centurion bodies, and struck a hundred meters into the ship through the hole.

The resulting explosion punched straight through the dorsal armor, blowing off shards of gray-silver armor like a shotgun blast- four raiders caught too close were vaporized by debris moving at thousands of meters per second. A secondary blast ripped off two ventral pyslon, the tip of one careening up over the baseship. Then a tyllium explosion blew off the third pylon. With catastrophic damage Cynet raiders concentrated their fire on the central column, launching dozens of missiles. No flak, no anti-missile missiles met the Cynet weapons. _Mike-Three _exploded seconds later, taking with it nearly twenty-five thousand Cylons and the raider fighters screens assigned to protect it.

_Mike-Four_ was in danger of falling to the same raider swarms.

"…_Mike Roma Seven and Eight, cover Mike-Four, ventral disk… infiltration attempt 1904 detected… infiltration attempt 1904 halted… sending backdoor worm via communications into Cynet baseships… worm detected and destroyed…"_

"…_missile battery three, four, and seven of Sierra-One disabled… Sierra-Two explosive decompressions detected in dorsal pylon one… Sierra-Three missile battery five, nine, eleven, twelve, and thirteen offline… Sierra-Three reporting successful intrusion of Cynet worm into firing computers, switching to manual Centurion targeting… Seirra-Three reports boarding actions by Cynet heavy raiders… Sierra-Four reports boarding by Cynet heavy raider forces… two hundred enemy Centurions detected in Sierra-Four…"_

Natalie let her right hand fingers curl ever so discreetly into an almost-formed fist. She felt the status reports seeping into her mind at an increased rate. The data was-

"…_radiological alarms!... Lima-Two destroyed, Lima-Three suffering heavy damage from nuclear detonations… radiological alarm!... three Cynet nuclear missile inbound, targets… Sierra-Five and Mike-Three… flak fire has successful neutralize nuclear… radiological alarm!... radiological alarm!... seven inbound nuclear missiles!... tactical FTL jumps detected… Charlie-19, Charlie-20, Charlie-23 repositioned and bracketing Sierra-One and Sierra-Two…"_

Natalie gritted her teeth. "_Order tactical FTL jump, ninety kilometers on carom eighteen thirty!" _she shouted over the wireless.

"_That'll leave our raiders out of position, Natalie!" _Boomer protested.

"_We'll launch our reserves. In Sonja's baseships are bracketed we're done…"_

Natalie's eyes went wide as Tess's baseship, _Mike-Two_, exploded from sustained missile barrages and suicide raider strikes. Her breathing was hard and staggered as she saw the tactics Cavil began employing. Suicide was against God, but Cavil believed in no God. Cynet had assumed that role, and Cynet cared only for its own, inevitable victory.

The flak canons on Tess's baseship had failed as a trio of powerful and fast anti-ship missiles slammed into the central column. One missile impacted ever so perfectly as the hanger doors were closing after they launched a half dozen heavy raider gunships from the reserves.

Two of the missiles had hit above the hanger door, belching out fire, white lights, and yellow flames from where the oxygen fed the fire. The black armore of the central column had exploded outwards in a radiant spiral, pushing by the energies of the missiles and the decompressions of the baseship.

Natalie's attention had been split, the data stream allowing her to coordinate and manipulate a dozen baseships and hundreds of raider quadroons. But a part of her was still connected to watching the telescope of her baseship focusing on the damage, assessing the craters pocketing not only the central column of Tess's baseship, but the gashes and wounds in the six pylons.

Then she saw the third missile contact Tess's baseship. It had only been two seconds behind, but she had been watching everything with such a clarity that she saw the gray contrails of the missiles streak in past the closing, protective doors of the hanger bay, and a split second later, saw the baseship expand.

The expansion began in the middle column and spread up and down simultaneously. A rush of fire escaped from the top pole of the baseship, and silvery-gray armor tumbled and rolled from the baseship. A raider was destroyed by a large armor segment. Then a long, long second later a second geyser of fire, metal, and death shot from the bottom pole of the baseship.

Natalie could see the bodies of bio-Cylon and mechanical Centurion alike being exploded with an offensive, uncaring fury. Then she saw the ammunition stores in the central column begin to explode, pushing the seams of the baseship to breaking. In a white, blinding light the entire central column was pushed out, flung across space, and the baseship exploded in two.

The pylons were somehow still connected to the 'top' of the exploded baseship, and the uneven explosion pushed them, rotated them, and flung them away from the baseship spinning before the tyllium fuel and missiles exploded.

Missiles, aimed for Tess's baseship while it was still intact contacted the bottom piece and the pylons fell apart as minor explosions from the missiles began a chain reaction. A third blinding light, yellow and red from the tyllium flashed across the telescopes and optics.

While she had focused on one baseship, the data stream allowed her to split her attention, and her silica relays and nodes allowed her to concentrate on dozens of tasks at once. But the benefits of being a Cylon were far outweighed by the negatives of civil war and the death all around her today.

She grimaced and straightened her body and jutted out her left hand onto the command console to steady herself as a missile broke the flak barrier of her command baseship and rocked the vessel.

"…… _Cynet infiltration attempt 2412 has failed… realign Z-axis three degrees… raider squadron Alpha-1-Bravo-3 cover ventral surface…"_

"_All ships, execute tactical jump in 3… 2… 1… JUMP!"_ Natalie ordered. Eighteen baseships made the jump. Five were destroyed and three were too damaged to jump.

An additional anti-fighter support ship was destroyed a millisecond before it could jump. Somehow, its rear portion had jumped, and the resulting spatial distortions had twisted the bow into a smoldering wreck, and the rear engine portion exploded as soon as it rematerialized out of jump space.

"_Launch all reserve raider squadrons!"_ Natalie ordered.

She watched on the screen as the Cynet ships jumped to follow. Fifteen Cynet baseships jumped behind her formation.

Analyzing the situation, her jump engines would cycle soon, and the last squadrons of raiders were being fitted with nuclear ordnance. She could place nuclear mines then jump away, timing the detonations as soon as she jumped, and the radiation and EMP would temporarily blind Cynet DRADIS. She could jump in with raiders behind the fifteen baseships, launch nukes point blank… it was suicide for the raiders, but they could resurrect still.

It wasn't suicide, it was sacrifice.

As she was about to order the tactical FTL jump which could save her fleet when her mind froze.

A sensation of pure dread, hatred, and despair shot through Natalie's mind. She shouted and saw Boomer, Miranda, Leoben, and half a dozen other bio-Cylons on the bridge recoil.

Leoben was disconnected from the data stream, but was the first to recover.

He looked at Natalie and then Boomer. They both exchanged shocked, horrified glances.

Natalie looked over to Miranda, who had regained her composure quickly, but had drawn her pistol. Reflexively, Natalie had drawn hers as well. She had to look down and take a moment to feel the cool metal of the grip in her hand before she realized she had done it, though.

Leoben, unarmed, rushed to the command bridge's weapon's locker and retrieve two rifles and two bandoliers of spare clips. He threw one across the command console to Boomer, who caught the rifle in her left hand and aptly caught the bandolier in her right. Both Leoben and Boomer clipped the belts across their waists.

* * *

==========Rebel Resurrection Ship, Designation _Alpha-01_==========

Korben, a Two, and chief technician of resurrection ships _Alpha-01_ could see the magnificent yellow-white explosions as nuclear detonations, power core overloads, and conventional missiles detonated. Behind the thick plastic-glass mixture comprising the large, cathedral-like windows of the resurrection ship, the view was stunning.

A red flash, then a yellow-red, then a yellow and another red marked destruction on a scale which had not been matched since the Twelve Colonies of Kobol had been obliterated nearly thirty-two months ago. He'd watched the destruction and genocide of twenty billion people, but it had never felt as real as it was feeling now. Twenty billion strangers was just a number, even to the rebels. Twenty billion was too many to feel true sorrow and remorse. The feeling in him, at the sight of this battle and the remembrance of the Holocaust were complete opposites. Out there his brothers and sisters and friends were dying. His mechanical comrades were giving their lives for the defense of a mistake the bio-Cylon models had made.

He brought his hand down from the glass as he felt an…_ odd_ sensation in the back of his mind. He looked up, jamming his eyes to the corner of their sockets as he tried processing this sensation. It was danger… it was… he shook his head and bit up with his lower left jaw while running his tongue along his teeth. He couldn't place the sensation.

"Korben… Korben," a Six, Thora called from down the corridor.

Korben turned quickly, his boots making an almost ear piercing screeching sound on the polished deck plates. The sensation in his mind grew as he looked at Thora. From the distance he could see the look of utter dread on her face, the horror.

"Thora!" He ran to her, taking out his pistol. An explosion rocketed him into the thick plastic-glass of the cathedral sized windows of the resurrection ship. He felt a _thud_ as his head hit the glass. Shaking, he reached up and felt his head. It was wet with blood. A second explosion rang through the ship and he blacked out.

* * *

==========Rebel Command Baseship _Mike-One_==========

"We had no idea, no idea they would do this Natalie!" Boomer shouted as an explosion and crackle of sparks flew down from the ceiling of the command bridge.

"We need to secure the ship from the Threes," Leoben said calmly. He came up to Natalie with his rifle pointed straight at the ceiling and inserted half his body between her and the command console data stream. "Natalie, Boomer and I can protect the bridge. The Centurions are here," he nodded to a dozen Centurions, three armed with large squad support machineguns, taking up positions at the entrances to the command bridge.

"How the frak does this happen?" She asked him, hissing her question. If words were venom she would have poisoned the entire bridge. "The Threes are on the resurrection ships… they… how did we miss this?"

Miranda had shifted her pistol to her left hand, and had her right in the data stream. Her eyes were rapidly moving up and down, side-to-side as she opened her mind to an almost comatose-level of data. A bio-Cylon's brain could process so much information at a time if a human did the same, it would send them into seizures a dozen times over before shutting down their brain. A bio-Cylon could handle immense sizes of data, but when the eyes began moving as quickly as Miranda's, that was a definite warning sign of overload.

Fortunately for Natalie Miranda had come back from teetering on the abyss of data overload.

Her eyes shot open.

"I don't know how, but the Threes somehow infiltrated our computers. During the whole battle the carbon dioxide levels were increasing, and the alarms disabled in their personal quarters. Nearly all the Threes on our baseships have committed suicide… suicide! They're resurrecting as we speak on the resurrection ships!" Miranda yelled. Her left hand gripped tightly over the pistol grip. "The FTL drives on half the remaining ships have been disabled!"

A victory had still been possible if Natalie could have use of tactical FTL jumping. But now-

"Focus on repairing the drives. Then we retreat," Natalie ordered. "Get Centurions down to the hybrids, _immediately!_"

She debated ordering her personal ship, under the command of Sonja, to jump immediately. Natalie needed the hybrid, and she didn't know if all the hybrids were the same, or if they were different. She couldn't take that chance.

Boomer shook her head, but pointed for Mackenzie, who was distracted and trying to follow the conversation between the Model commanders, to continue coordinating raider and heavy raider movements.

The dark eyes of the Cylon grew darker with a black fire igniting behind them. "Then we find the fraking Threes and we kill them!" She spat.

"This shouldn't be possible, this can't be possible!" Leoben protested. "We cleared Cynet programs on all our baseships when we left…"

Natalie shook her head and reholstered her pistol. With both hands, palms open she pressed in on her temples and rubbed hard enough the motion, meant to soothe her nerve, was now just hurting her. As she closed her eyes she felt a warm shower of sparks fall down and brush against her arm.

Status updates from the fleet were still downloading and being processed by her mind, which she had divided into a dozen tasks. But the majority of her conscious efforts were in processing what was happening here.

"Cynet must have hardwired something into the baseships during construction. Something we missed which let it take control of the threes… D'Anna would _never_ willfully commit suicide. Never," Natalie said, trying to console herself that her friend, her former friend, was acting outside her control.

She bared her teeth as she thought of Cynet manipulating them like that, raping their free will, enslaving them. It hadn't done it to six of the seven models. As Natalie processed this she knew now that Cynet would never leave itself totally vulnerable. If the Threes took control of the resurrection ships under rebel control, or destroyed them, even a victory here would be defeat. Cynet, Cylons were patient. It could rebuild and spawn a new army. It could whittle down rebel forces. Wars were won and lost when personnel, soldiers were exhausted. Cynet outnumbered them in every way now, and it had taken from them the only way to maintain some parity.

Natalie punched down and cracked the thin plastic cover of the command console's edge. Bringing her fist up she flicked the blood off of her knuckles, letting it splatter over the floor. With her knuckles bloodied she jammed her hand back into the conducting gel of the data stream port. She felt the hot air of an overhead fire, and the blasting gases of fire suppression systems in the ceiling activate to put out the localized fire. Her hand throbbed, but she had a battle to fight.

With a distant, distracted, and emotionless glare she looked at Leoben and Boomer. "Find any of the Threes still alive. Kill them." She opened a wireless data link to the resurrection ships. "_Isabelle… Isabelle! Report! Isabelle!"_

"…_Mike-Four has been destroyed… Sierra-Five is pulling back… missile batteries on dorsal pylon two completely offline… baseship is being boarded… radiological alarms!...radiological alarms!....radiological alarms!..."_

Natalie watched as two baseships, _Sierra-Three_ and _Sierra-Four_, their crews fighting with Cynet boarding parties and reeling from the treachery of the Threes, exploded as multiple low-yield nuclear weapons made contact with the hulls. In white light, then a gray-white cloud of vapor and debris, two baseships and over sixty thousand rebel Cylons met their death and stared into the face of God.

* * *

==========Rebel Resurrection Ship _Alpha-01==========_ sabotague

Korben breathed in heavily, his breath uneven and labored. Screaming, he opened his eyes and immediately saw the object putting so much pressure on his chest. A metal strut had been knocked loose, had batted him into the side of the resurrection vessel, then had broken free and slid down the window until it had pinned him.

"God…" he muttered to himself as he put his hand under the scorched strut and pushed. He yelped in pain again, this time the charge not coming from his chest, but from his wrist. He took a deep, labored breath and cleared his mind. His mind told him his wrist was sprained. He ordered his silica relays to reduce the pain, and he released increased levels of adrenalin into his bloodstream with a moderate increase in synthetic morpha to reduce the pain.

"Korben!" He heard someone shout.

The Two looked up, raising his neck so he could look over the strut. Thora was standing, standling his lying body and reaching down. Between the two augmented bio-Cylons they lifted the strut off, and Thora held it steady until Korben could pull himself clear. He heard it clang two seconds after he cleared it, and after Thora was sure her brother was out of the way.

She brought her right leg over so she could be at his side and leaned down. "Are you alright?" She asked, her blue eyes dark with worry, and her face contorting with pain.

Korben nodded and wiped away blood from his lip. He was worried he was bleeding internally. Closing his eyes he shut out the world around him and sent pulses through his silica relays. He had a hairline crack on his sternum, two cracked ribs, and a seriously sprained wrist. Opening his eyes he smiled wide. "I'm fine," he grinned.

"Then get the frak up, soldier," thora said, instantly casting off the concern, shooting to her feet, and extending her right hand down to her brother. "The Threes have betrayed us. Their mass resurrecting and clogging the resurrection buffers... somehow they're overriding the signals from our brothers and sisters. Thousands of Twos, Sixes, and Eights are dying, Korben."

She reached to her side and grabbed her pistol. Her eyes drifted down to Korben's sidearm. Understanding, he nodded and pulled his out.

"I hit my head pretty hard, Thora. I can't hear our brothers and sisters. Who's still alive?"

Thora grimaced and looked down. Shaking her head she bit down on her lip.

"I don't know. The explosion might have been C9explosives from the weapon lockers. I feel the Threes already hacking into the ship. If they get to control they'll be able to jump the ships right into the battle and destroy us. Or they can space us all, open the airlocks and vent the atmosphere."

The Two nodded. Cocking his head he heard the mechanical clangs of Centurions.

"Centurions!" he yelled, as a pair came rushing down the corridor. They stopped; one had a large automatic rifle and the second already had its guns deployed, ready for orders. "All Model Threes are now enemy combatants. Kill them on sight," Korben said forcefully. "If you can contact any other Centurions, order them to control, engineering, and vital portions of this ship. We cannot allow the Threes to gain control-"

A massive explosion ripped at the resurrection vessel. Again, it was internal. Sparks and wires flew and broke free from the ceiling above, and an access panel was blasted loose and almost smashed into Thora's head, but the Centurion with the large rifle jumped forward and with a single motion pulled her into its metallic body and spun around. The panel struck the back of the Centurion with a loud _bang_, but otherwise did little damage other than a scratch and a small dent to the rear armor.

In front of Korben, he saw the second Centurion raise its arms over Korben's shoulders.

"_Get down_," it told him in its strong, monotone voice. Korben instantly complied, dropping to his knees and spinning, his pistol already aiming.

He saw four Threes, one of them completely naked, one wearing only a bullet-proof flack vest, and two with white bathrobes. He didn't have time to analyze the… strangeness of the sight.

Each of the Threes were armed. Two had pistols and two had automatic rifles. How they had gotten the weapons, Korben wasn't exactly sure.

In the blink of an eye on of the Threes had her rifle pressed into her shoulder, the naked one, and the second with a rifle began firing from her hip. The other two, the one with the flak vest and one with a white bathroom knelt down and brought their pistols up.

Korben was already firing, but felt a prick as a bullet grazed his left arm. The Centurion guarding Thora crouched down to protect her. The second Centurion fired its arm canons on full auto, spraying left and right and simultaneously moving its arms closer together.

A second bullet hit Korben in the side, and in a yelp of pain, keeled over and fell on his right side, right where the bullet hit. In the momentary rush of pain and excitement uncharacteristically cursed, but bit his tongue. He fire on the last remaining Three, the one with the flak vest, and either with luck or divine interference, put a bullet right through her throat, exploding her trachea and cracking her vertebrae.

In a loud, blood-curling gurgling scream, the Three collapsed to the ground and began to spasm as blood flew from her throat and gushed like a cut hose over the naked Three who was lying dead by her side.

Korben heard the mechanical whine of damaged servos and flipped onto his left side. He saw his guardian Centurion with four bullet holes, on in the center above the ground region, one in the left thigh armor, and two in the upper right chest.

"How are you?" He asked the Centurion, still standing guard with its left arm extended. It's right arm hung loose at its side.

The Centurion cocked its head and looked down. The roving eye continued its horizontal pacing as it answered. "Offensive capabilities have been reduced to fifty percent," it reported simply. "You are wounded."

Korben winced and let a sly little smirk come up on his face. His left eye reflexively shut as the pain was transmitted throughout his body.

"Thora?" He asked.

"I'm fine. HC-I saved me," she said. "Thank you," the Six said to the Centurion.

It nodded its head and stood up to its full height. Spinning quickly it brought its oversized rifle up to its shoulder and took a defensive position in front of Korben, allowing Thora to tend his wounds.

"You're going to live, right?" She asked, concerned.

Closing his eyes and performing a self-physical for the second time in as many minutes he concentrated on his body, dampening silica relays and focusing on the area around his wound.

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. Just a graze in the arm and the bullet went clean through. I think God's watching over me, it missed my organs," Korben said with a glare of his teeth. "Help me up?" He asked, extending his good arm.

Thora nodded and stood up and then reached down and with a huff and a grunt pulled Korben up.

The four walked over quickly to the dead Threes. One was still alive. Korben put one round in her chest.

"Grab the rifles," he suggested to Thora.

"Right," she responded. Crouching down she grabbed them both and holstered her pistol.

Korben grabbed the rifle Thora extended to him and checked the magazine. It still contained roughly eighteen, maybe twenty rounds. Kneeling down he checked the robed Threes for any spare clips but didn't find any. Frowning, he clicked the release for his pistol, let his clip fall and bounce on the floor, and slapped one of his three spare into the gun.

"We have to get to command," Thora said, breaking the silence.

* * *

==========Rebel Command Baseship _Mike-One_============

Natalie felt the walls of space beginning to constrict around her. A battle, being fought, in the gaping maw of a lion's mouth… the imagery was suitable. It would almost be poetic if the dying and the dead did not surround the Six.

She wiped the blood from an Eight, Mackenzie, off her shirt. A massive, well-placed missile barrage had impacted the command baseship, designated _Mike-One_, and a ceiling support girder had fallen and smacked Mackenzie in the back. Her body had flung forward and her head had hit the command console with a loud _snap_ and _thud_. Her skull had cracked and blood had sprayed all over Natalie's front tank top and face.

She had lost three anti-fighter support ships and the baseships _Mike-Two, Three, Four, _and _Five_, _Sierra-Three, Four, _and _Eight_, and _Lima-Two, Three, _and _Six._

Natalie traced back the sensor and internal data scans of the baseships. The Threes had been suiciding, undetected, for four minutes before the chill and the revelation came to Natalie and the other bio-Cylons. However Cynet had disrupted their systems, whatever backdoor it possessed, it had been effective. The Threes had disrupted operations on multiple baseships and were responsible, in some degree or another, for the destruction of four, perhaps five, of those baseships already lost. She had already lost a third of her offensive capabilities.

Of the vessels Cynet had committed, it had lost sixteen baseships and four support ships, with another six damaged and withdrawing to their rear.

_Sierra Three _and_ Four_ had been boarded by hundreds of Cynet Centurions, and had successfully fought their way towards munitions storage and tyllium fuel stores and had detonated bombs, incinerating those vessels if blinding lights and luminous fire.

"_There's a gap in Charlie-9s raider screen,"_ Boomer reported, once again concentrating fully on the battle. She still had a rifle with her, now slung over her shoulder. She didn't wait for Natalie's orders. "_Ordering Mike Roma Nineteen to make a pass,"_ she told Natalie.

The raiders spun on a hard six, and their blue engines flashed and flared. Twenty raiders, with fresh stocks of missiles dodged and weaved the flak screen and missiles of _Charlie-9_. Boomer watched and directed as one, then two, then three and four raiders were taken out by the baseships defenses. Her link with the raiders told her they were already downloading into the resurrection apparatuses on the baseships or resurrection ships.

In a display of what Boomer considered absolute glory the raiders broke through the defense screen, and in a display which shocked her, armed their missiles for contact detonation, fired their main auto canons, and slammed into the central column of _Charlie-9_, which subsequently exploded in a flash of light, with a storm of debris flying in all directions from where the baseship had made it last stand.

Natalie, distracted by the battle around her, and the Threes which had not suicide attacking the lower decks, combined with the degradation in data uplink capabilities, had to trust Boomer was making the right decision.

"…_radiological alarms!... six nuclear missile incoming… raider squadrons ordered to break off an engage… heavy raider counter-boarding parties to depart and jump to resurrection vessel immediately… infiltration attempt 3416 detected… infiltration attempt 3416 neutralized… radiological alarm, nuclear missiles two hundred kilometers out and closing… insufficient fighter coverage… FTL distortions detected… three Colonial Raptors…. missile barrage detected, target Sierra Two…"_

The battle, divided into dozens of sub-battles in Natalie's mind rushed and danced about for more attention in her consciousness. She kept her mind sharp and focused. The most obvious threat were the nuclear missiles. She ordered all available raider squadrons, now down to fifty-seven percent effectiveness, to concentrate on the missiles. She ordered a counter battery fire of two dozen ship-to-ship nuclear missiles…

_Sierra-Two_ successfully intercepted the nuclear missiles and she ordered it to perform tactical FTL jumps. It jumped once, then reappearing, jumped again, and released a barrage of missile at _Charlie-Two_, which buckled under the sustained, point blank missile fire. A pylon broke free and a massive gash in the black central column resulted as internal explosions ripped through from ventral to dorsal disk. It lost power and using only maneuvering thrusters retreated from battle and headed down the Y-axis from the central plane of battle.

Refocusing on the nuclear missile strikes missile after missile fell to the swarm of raiders. Her raiders and the Cynet raiders were so intertwined, she had no choice but to set the missile to contact detonations. Proximity fuses would have vaporized hundreds of her fighters and left her ships vulnerable.

Natalie ran the data streaming into her consciousness. The amount of FTL jumps, the quick spooling of the engines, and the amount of maneuvering the ships were performing was taxing fuel reserves. The FTL engines on half her fleet were in the 'red' zones, in danger of overheating and entering automatic shutdown to prevent cataclysmic spatial disruptions during jumps, which would tear the ships apart.

By now, battle plan _Ixion_ was no more. She was performing maneuvers on the fly. Cavil was still mostly responding to her offensive FTL jumps. He'd forced her to engage his ships one on one, or two to one. Natalie had to be careful in positioning her ships, so the FTL drives would be protected. Indeed, the seriousness of damaged FTLs had forced her to deploy multiple raider squadrons with the sole purpose of protecting the dorsal discs of each baseship, which housed the main FTL drive assemblies.

Cavil wasn't as cautious. He had numbers on his side, so he could sacrifice the FTL drives of dozens of his baseships and still maintain an offensive, tactical FTL-capable force.

Natalie watched as Cavil did such a maneuver, and jumped six baseships away from the battered _Sierra_ formation under Sonja's command and right into the thick of _Mike _formation. His baseships jumped so close, Natalie could feel the spatial distortions. He was virtually point blank.

Her formation was down to eight baseships, with one of those suffering extreme damage and virtually unable to fire any offensive missiles. _Mike-Eleven_, the damaged baseship, was the focus of the six Cynet baseships, and it exploded as dozens of missile overwhelmed it, even as _Mike-Ten_ had courageously positioned itself between its damaged brethren and three Cynet baseships to absorb the missile strikes on its dorsal disc.

The Six closed her eyes and rubbed her left hand over her face. She still felt the blood from Mackenzie splattered on her cheeks and forehead, though it was drying in the hot, stale air of the command bridge.

"_Resurrection ship Alpha-03 and 04 have been destroyed!" _Leoben shouted.

The resurrected bodies from half the fleet, if they had even been downloaded, were now lost.

* * *

==========Resurrection Ship _Alpha-01_==========

Thora ducked and Korben knelled as sparks and _ping-ping-ping-pings_ of rifle fire hit metal bulkheads and flashed in vaporizing orange-red sparks. The Six and the Two responded to the gunfire with single-shots from their own rifles.

One Centurion was still with them, the one which had protected Thora, HC-I. The other had been killed by a C9 explosive mine. Thora, Korben, and HC-I had met up with a group of three Twos, a Six, and two Centurions two decks down and three frames back, but the group had split up to storm control from separate directions.

The fuzzy feeling, from Korben's mind repairing itself and reconnecting with a damaged wireless network within the ship, was telling him that group was most likely dead.

A ricochet and _ping_, and a flash of light of the floor reflexively brought Korben left hand up to shield his eyes. Motioning for the Centurion to cover him, HC-I let loose with a massive, prolonged burst of two dozen bullets from his assault rifle. The sound was deafening, but the deadly rounds kept the half dozen Threes in front of them cowering behind their bulkheads.

Korben rushed forward and used what little endogenous morpha he had left, numbed the pain in his sprained left wrist as much as he could. He grabbed the cylindrical shape of a grenade out of his pocket and wrapping the pin around his index finger of his right hand, pulled. He released the safety trigger and counted to two, then threw the grenade with a precision no human could ever accomplish.

Bouncing it off the wall at the correct angle, right on its top, it spun, and at an angle slid towards the group of Threes over the course of a second. Two second later it exploded. The overpressure wave popped Korben's eardrums and blew back Thora's hair.

He nodded to her, and she brought her rifle to her shoulder and slowly extended from one knee, to a crouch, to a hunched over walking position. As she stood, her knees cracked from the stress of the last few minutes; a dozen slams into deck plates or bulkheads. She didn't need to look to know her knees were black and blue from bruising.

Korben coughed from the smoke, and gagged from the smell of burned flesh. His boot slid when he stepped on a slick piece of intestine, but Thora was there to steady him. He nodded and smiled his thanks to her.

HC-I was walking slowly now, between the two and slightly in front. His oversized rifle was out of ammunition, and he had switched to his built in arm canons, which he kept at a forty-five degree angle pointed at the deck.

"_Movement detected,"_ he reported to the Six and the Two. They stopped and separate, each pressing up against the bulkhead and stepping over the dead, naked bodies of the Threes. HC-I pressed himself against a bulkhead and extended his right arm and clicked on his central canon.

A Two rounded the corner, rifle flailing at his side. Korben, Thora, and HC-I were about to step out when two Threes rounded the corner and opened fire with pistols. He was shot twice in the back, but pushed off on his right foot and spun, and as he fell to the ground and flew backwards, with his rifle outstretched between his legs he pulled the trigger and opened fire and hit one of the Threes with a burst right in the chest.

A loud '_guh'_ sound shout out from her lips and by the time the retreated Two hit the deck, dead, the Three had keeled over, fallen to her knees, her eyes rolled back into her skull, and she fell to her left side ragged and limp.

Thora, Korben, and HC-I proceeded to fire into the chest of the Three. Nearly a dozen rounds hit her, many of the larger caliber from the Centurions large central arm canon. Bullets tore through her chest and pushed her into the bulkhead. With each sickening sound of flesh being torn open, blood splattering and gushing out of her wound, a loud _clink_ was heard as the bullets rushed through her body and impacted the bulkhead behind her. Finally, with Thora's rifle clicking from a dearth of bullets, the Centurion and Korben stopped firing.

The Three didn't even have any eyes left to roll back into her skull. In fact, the Centurion had destroyed her head with four well placed shots. All that was left was some sort of bastardized, grotesque stump for a head.

The smell of burnt brain matter from the hot bullets was sickening, and Thora threw up, and Korben coughed violently, but managed to push back the feeling. The Centurion looked on, its armored helmet not exposing its slight amusement at the scene.

* * *

==========Rebel Command Baseship _Mike-One_==========

The data stream was dark. Natalie opened her eyes. Her mind was black, blank. The dozens of events she had been watching were gone. A moment of confusion swept over her as she stared into the cold, lifeless pit of conducting gel standing slightly above waist height.

The blood from Mackenzie was still splattered all over the edges of the console, and the clear conducting gel was painted a thin red. Looking up, the Eight was still visible under the girder, her eyes were open, and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, colored blue and black. Natalie could see her eyes were no longer dark brown, but red from ruptured capillaries.

Looking around she saw a Two, slumped against the far wall, black burn marks and scorched flesh evident. Next to him was an Eight, her legs pinned under a metal girder, her left arm with a compound fracture, and her head with a large gash, leaking blood into a growing pool on the floor. Behind her were the bodies of another four bio-Cylons and two Centurions.

She grabbed the console, a missile had struck the ship again.

By now, the twenty-nine vessels which had been her primary attack force were down to a dozen. Her resurrection ships were on the verge of destruction. She'd inflicted heavy losses on the Cynet baseships, but the sheer weight of numbers and the treachery of the Threes doomed the battle.

Clamoring hand over hand to brace herself, she used her strength and ripped open a compartment in the command console and pulled out an old headset. Somehow it was still working. Flipping up a portion of the command console's edge was a hidden display. She still had power and a connection to the surviving baseships.

"All baseships with FTL capability… jump to emergency fall back coordinates!" She ordered.

She watched DRADIS as one, then three, then four, five, and six baseships winked off. Hundreds of raiders and heavy raiders disappeared from view. Part of her wanted her commanders to refuse the orders and stay and fight to the last, but the rebellion couldn't be won by needless sacrafise. Though it might be unwinnable even know.

"Natalie, we have to go," Leoben said.

She hadn't even noticed he was still at her side. A brief flash of warmth enveloped her soul. Loyal to the last.

"Boomer is securing a heavy raider. Natalie, the ship is lost. There's reports over the sound-powered that there are boarding parties coming in. They're just flinging a few missiles at us to hurt us. They want us alive. Cavil wants you," he said quickly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't budge.

She watched as a seventh and an eight ship jumped away on DRADIS. But she frowned as she saw Cynet baseships conducting tactical FTL jumps to the resurrection ships. But the _Icarus_ formation under Isabelle could still hold them off, hopefully for long enough for her forces and counter-boarding parties to retake the remaining resurrection ships.

* * *

==========Resurrection Ships Designated _Alpha-01_==========

HC-I had stopped its horizontally pacing scanning eye and focused it on the center of the command and control blast door as Korben and Thora took positions behind. A fierce fire fight, between themselves and another group of Threes had resulted in Thora's new injury; a bad limp from being shot in the thigh.

Korben hadn't even suggested the Six stay back and let him and HC-I handle this. He knew she wouldn't have listened to him. Instead they'd strip searched the bodies of the Threes, retrieved more grenades, a few spare clips, and both now had flak jackets to protect their vulnerable torsos and chests.

The first group of Twos, a Six, and two Centurions they had met were now confirmed dead. The mechanical bodies of the Centurions were shattered into dozens of pieces, their meta-cognitive processors completely fragments, and the bodies of the Twos and the Six were splayed across the corridor, filled with bullet holes and dotted with shrapnel.

Even if the resurrection vessel could be retaken, the damage was extreme. The amount of C9 explosives the Threes had used in their sabotage had opened up nearly a quarter of the ship to space, and Korben and Thora had seen hundreds, maybe thousands of husks of Twos, Sixes, and Eights floating through space, frozen and blue.

And it wasn't just the Threes. The Centurions and the Twos, Sixes, and Eights had been liberally applying the use of grenades and armor piercing rounds, as well as their own booby traps of C9 explosives. If the resurrection ship survived, it would need months in dry dock to repair to full capacity.

But now Korben and Thora and HC-I focused their attention and their drive to rid the command and control room of the Threes they knew were in there. The blast doors were sealed, but even the augmented strength of a dozen Threes couldn't match the strength of a Centurion.

"Alright, HC, do you thing, we'll cover," Thora said, nodding towards the hatch released.

HC-I nodded back and flipped his arm canons to standby and curled back and retracted his razor sharp claws for a better grip on the hatch's spin wheel.

Korben and Thora were both pointing their rifles at opposite ends of the hall, in case a Three came rushing down the corridor.

"Done," HC-I commented. "I will open in four seconds," he stated simply.

Thora took one grenade and pulled the pin, Korben flung his rifle back on his shoulder, which clinked on the bulkhead he was pressing himself again, and took out two grenades, pulling both pins with a grunt. His left wrist was now bulging and red from the pain and stress he'd placed in under the last ten minutes.

The damaged Centurion opened the door, and immediately a burst of rifle fire struck him in the chest. But Korben and Thora were quick, and tossed their grenades in and HC-I shut the hatch. They heard three loud _BOOM-BOOM-BOOM_ in rapid sucession, followed by screams. HC-I pushed the door open and immediately took cover behind the door frame, and Thora and Korben both threw in two additional grenades.

Two more loud _BOOM-BOOM_ noises followed, followed by blood being projected out of the command and control room and splashing onto the wall on the other side fo the corridor from Korben and Thora. They both looked at it, wide eyed, before nodding to HC-I.

The damaged Centurion had half a dozen bullet holes in its chest armor, and the damage to its power fuel cell flashed _'critical-replace primary power cell immediately- depletion in twenty-three minutes'_. Plus, damage from a C9 mine had fused the joints on its right knee and ankle, so it was dragging half its leg, sparks kicking up on the floor behind it.

"Contact!" Thora shouted, as she saw the bloodied and burned hand of a Three reach up for a pistol. She placed a well-aimed bullet directly in the center of the Three's back, severing the spinal column.

"Clear," Korben said quickly, as he scanned the left side of the room. HC-I indicated the center was clear.

"Clear," Thora confirmed. She spun and scanned over the control room. It wasn't large, maybe half the size of a baseship's command bridge, but it had much more powerful data stream stations. Stalking over Thora laid her rifle on the side of a station and placed her hand in. Cursing, she withdrew her hand, wiped the blood and grime off, and placed it back in.

Narrowing her eyes in frustration she shot her hand back out, balled it into a fist, and pounded it on the4 edge of the console.

"The data stream is down," she reported. Korben moved to a second console across the room and reported the same. "We have to jack in manually," she said reluctantly. "You have a knife?" she asked reluctantly as she bent over, opened an access panel, and disconnected a small optical fiber line.

"No," Korben said, shaking his head. He shrugged his shoulders and let out a deep sigh as he looked around the room for something to cut herhand with.

"_You can use my claw_," HC-I offered, retracting the arm canons from his left hand and extending the claw on his index finger. The Centurion stalked over, its metal steps dampened by the extreme amount of blood covering the deck.

Thora held out her hand, and in a quick motion the Centurion cut down, deep. Thora looked up, offering him an appreciative smile at the speed in which the Centurion had cut.

"Korben, can you put it in?" She asked.

"Of course," he answered tenderly. He slung his rifle behind his shoulder and kneeled next to Thora. He almost fell when the ship shook violently. "What was that?" he asked as he began threading the optical line into Thora's hand and up her forearm. The squishing noise from pushing it through blood and under skin, between fat and muscle, was always horrible.

Thora's eyes rolled back slightly in her head as she connected to the resurrection ship.

"The hybrid is dead… killed by the Threes… the Cynet forces are boarding. Natalie's heavy raiders aren't enough… there's hundreds of Centurions and Simons and Dorals boarding us," she reported with dread. Her breathing had increased as she probed deeper into the data stream which was still functional. Korben placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her, and she could hear his voice, remote as it was, as she guided her consciousness through the baseship.

She and Korben and HC-I were the only ones on the command deck. Most of the crew was killed, and many of the Centurions were already fighting the Cynet boarding parties, which were only three decks down and ten frames forward. The Threes had destroyed any internal defenses. They couldn't vent the atmosphere to space to kill the Simons and Dorals, and all the emergency hatches were either destroyed or disabled.

The FTL engines were offline.

* * *

==========Rebel Command Baseship Designated _Mike-One_==========

The resurrection vessels were lost. _Icarus_ formation was ordered to jump and save themselves.

Natalie and Leoben were now the only two bio-Cylons left alive on the command bridge of Miranda's baseships.

Kneeling down, just to be certain, Natalie felt for a pulse on the bloodied and mangled body of Miranda. Checking quickly, she found no pulses, either on the neck, the arm, or the wrist. She scanned the body, focusing on Miranda's chest and couldn't see any sign she was breathing. Like a lead weight had hit her, she dropped down from one knee to two. She put her hand on Miranda's shoulder, and with sunken eyes, stood up and turned to Leoben.

The command bridge sparked and fires had ignited in the corners. The auxiliary data stream consoles were either shattered from falling girders and struts, or dark from loss of power, or stained in red blood or the red-black oils which circulated through the Centurions. Everywhere, the bridge, once a gleaming white and bright room, was polluted with black scorches, blood, broken bodies, and smoldering remains of Centurions.

The ship shook, violently, and Natalie slipped on a pool of blood and fell down, hard, on outstretched hands. She felt the radius in her left forearm break under the impact. Quickly, Leoben was by her side, wrapping his arm under her elbow and guiding her back up. He steadied her and handed her an assault rifle.

"Boomer's securing a heavy raider. We have to go, Natalie," Leoben said with an equal amount of force, resolve, and worry. "Cynet boarders are fighting their way and down from the disks. We have five, six minutes before they break through the Centurion defenses," he said, coughing the last words as black smoke filled his lungs.

Natalie began to nod, but stopped as her head began to throb, almost forcing her to loose the balance she had the most precarious hold to.

"I'm alright, I'll be fine," she said quietly, nearly absent-mindedly to Leoben. She gently pushed him away with her hand on his chest. She slapped the barrel guard of the rifle into her left hand, ignoring the searing pain, and looked up. "Let's go." She said.

The two walked quickly from the bridge, neither pausing to look back. The friends who were dead would stay dead, there would be no spacing of their bodies, no ceremonies to cast their bodies and souls into the void of space. If they survived, they'd each say a little prayer to God, hoping He would guide them to Him and forgive them for their sins of Holocaust.

Leoben and Natalie had rendezvoused with another Six and a Centurion, but they had forced Natalie and Leoben to go ahead and make for the hanger bay while they stayed behind to cover them from advancing Cynet Centurions.

Everywhere, all in the corridors were the bodies of dozens, hundreds of bio-Cylons and Centurions. The Cynet boarding parties had swept through here; they'd broken past the Centurion defenders and now there were dozens, maybe hundreds of running gun battles throughout the central column and six pylons of the baseship.

Natalie's ears flickered when she heard the _crack_ of gunfire barely fifty meters away. It was rifle fire, but it was followed by sustained whirring sounds, Centurion arm canons, and then screams and moans. She felt her brothers and sisters dying around her as their feeble and weak connections to the degrading data and wireless links were severed.

Relying on instinct to guide her, and the training she had been thrown during her development, she let her senses wrap around the environment around her. She could hear the faint whir of Centurion hydraulic motors, and shakes and vibrations from exploding grenades and C9 mines, and the shudders from internal and external explosions.

Spinning rapidly on her heels she let out a single three-round burst, then a second and a third into the chest plate and right shoulder of a Cynet Centurion which had somehow crept up and snuck up behind Leoben and Natalie.

It fell to the ground with a loud _clunk_, it's head shaking violently as sparks jumped out and danced on the deck plates from where armor piercing bullet had struck motor and generator.

The trams and elevators were disabled, so Leoben and Natalie were forced to use the recessed ladders to descend from the command deck, two decks down to be level with the flight deck and main hanger.

Each of them jumped down in a crouch, facing opposite, rifles pressed hard into their shoulders waiting for Centurions or Simons or Dorals or even Cavils to stalk around the corner and try and shoot them. They each heard heavy machinegun fire, large caliber bullets. Most likely it was Centurions or bio-Cylons manning a defensive perimeter around the landing bays, trying to let as many rebels get to them as possible before departing the ship.

"We're five frames up," Natalie began when a violent explosion rocketed her and sent her flying into a bulkhead.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but she guessed no more than a few seconds, because the heavy machinegun fire she'd heard earlier she could still hear. Catching her breath, she ran her hand over her chest, looking for wounds. She wiggled her toes and smiled; she wasn't paralyzed. But then she screamed as the pain from her broken radius shot back through her body. She didn't have the concentration left to command her silica relays to dampen the pain, and she was too unfocused to force her body to release the needed adrenaline and chemicals to banish the pain.

It was sharp and shooting, like someone was ramming a knife through her wrist and up her arm to her elbow.

"Leoben?" She asked the darkened corridor. She lifted her head and looked for him. Her eyes could see so much better than a human's in the dark, but with all the smoke, blood, and bodies, she couldn't see him.

She stood up and cradled her left arm in her chest and shot our her right to steady herself on the walls of the corridor. She touched the walls and immediately brought her hand back, surprised at the warmth. Catching her breath she let herself breath in through her nostrils. The distinct smell, and the hot panels cued her in there were electrical fires throughout the access shafts before the halls.

With fire suppression systems disabled- she felt a jolt and shot her right hand out without thinking how hot the wall would be, and burned her hand- the fires could spread and could potentially reach the tyllium stores.

"Leoben! Answer me, please! We have to get to the hanger!" She yelled. She blinked. It wasn't just the dark keeping her from seeing. She should be able to see. She had oil in her eyes and everything was blurry. "Leoben!"

The baseship shook again violently and the corridor grew darker. She tripped at an odd angle and heard a crack at her ankle, and lodged her foot under a bio-Cylon, which disturbed the destroyed remains of a Centurion.

Natalie saw the light flicker and at the end of a corridor another began to approach. They were silhouetted at first, but began to come closer.

She remembered her vision, how she was stuck and couldn't move, how her leg was stuck under the weight of a Centurion, her ankle broken. Somehow her right hand was bracing her in the upright position against the bulkhead, ignoring the heat. Her lungs were choking and her eyes burning more and more as the smoke from electrical fires began filling the corridor.

"You…" she muttered.

She could see them now, and she could see the pistol.

"This has gone on long enough," they said, raising the pistol.

"You're… not who I saw," she said, wiping her eyes with her burned right hand and almost falling to the ground in pain. Shifting her weight to her left foot, if this was to be the end for her, she wasn't going to die on her knees.

"How quaint," it remarked, seeing Natalie's defiant face and her resolve to be killed on her feet.

"Do it," Natalie ordered. If she were to die at another's hand, then she'd order them to do it.

She heard a pistol shot, and she didn't flinch. She heard a second and a third and the figure stepped back. Their right hand fell and their hand went lip, the pistol only being kept from clanging to the floor by the index finger wrapped around the trigger guard.

Natalie looked down. Somehow, Leoben had been throw in front of her with the explosion, and was propped up under a body. He had a pistol in his outstretched arm, which quivered and wavered and fell to his side.

"Natalie…" he whispered.

Ignoring her broken ankle and forcing the last energy she had left, she reached down and pulled her foot from the ruins of the Centurions and staggered forward, almost falling but catching herself. She fell to her left knee, her right leg hanging limp by her side and she bent down next to her friend. Smiling at him, they heard the footsteps of soldiers and the mechanical steps of Centurions.

She searched desperately for a weapon and found a pistol and aimed down, towards the sound. She looked back at Leoben, and nothing needed to be said between the two.

Natalie's index finger tightened on the trigger when a wave of euphoria rushed through her. Trembling, she slackened her grip and fell forward, laughing.

"Natalie! Leoben!" Boomer shouted. She was decked in the black flight gear and had a rifle. Behind her three other Eights and five Centurions had taken up guarding positions. "It's time to go," she said, reaching down for them with another Eight.

* * *

==========Resurrection Ship Designated _Alpha-01_==========

Korben's rifle spat out its last bullet with a bright yellow-white muzzle flash before the disappointing _click-click-click_ sound alerted him his magazine was empty. Sighing and with no spare clips left he ducked behind the data stream console, just in time as bullets whizzed by overhead. He felt the heat and the air separate as two bullets flew by, right where his head had been not even half a second before.

Breathing in and out, calming himself as much as he could he pulled out his pistol and his last grenade. Pulling the pin he counted to four, then threw it with all the force he could. The explosion happened before he could take cover fully and it pushed him back, and he could feel the heat on his face.

The grenade had exploded in the air, and had sent shrapnel flying in an expanding sphere.

He heard the deep moans of a bio-Cylon, one he knew was a Simon, and the curses of two Doral models. The hydraulic whines were from a Cynet Centurion.

Korben peaked over, but couldn't see. He realized his timing had been off, and the pressure wave had burst every capillary in his right eye. His left eye was already blurry from metal, dirt, and particulates, and the thick smoke was clogging his lungs.

"How's it looking, Thora?" He shouted over the moans and screams. He heard the clunks and clangs of more Centurions as they moved up closer to the control room.

Korben looked over and saw Thora shaking, shivering. She was positioned so he could see her face and her eyes, and like him, one was red from blown capillaries, and the other was rolled half way back in her eye socket, and moving around rapidly.

Down the side of her cheek, like his, was blood, dirt, and grime. His flak jacket was riddled with half a dozen dented ceramic plates from bullet hits, and his pants were torn. Somehow he'd lost he left boot in one of the firefights. His left wrist wasn't sprained any longer, but was now completely broken. The grenade toss has been the last movement he was going to force out of it.

His silica relays were shot and his enhanced physiology was not enhanced enough to deal with the pain. The pain from the bullet which had hit his side had increased, and he could feel the warm blood slowly dripping away down his side and thigh, and pooling onto the floor. He also believed his knee was sprained, and assumed if he did live, which he was not expecting to, he'd be effectively blind in his right eye.

But he could see enough of Thora to know she wasn't in anywhere near as bad as shape as he was. And at least he and she were still alive. HC-I was dead, his armored head having been riddled with bullets, and his torso caved in from a grenade. He sat in the very back of the control room, slumped against a wall, 'bleeding' the red-black fluid which circulated inside the Centurions. A few sparks here and there, and a spasm of the head or the arms or legs gave the impression HC-I was still functioning. But the bullet pattern and penetration angles told Korben the MCP was destroyed, shattered.

"Thora, how's it coming?" he repeated. He forced himself up when he heard metal footsteps and put four armor piercing rounds right into the center mass of a Centurion. He ducked down as a second Centurion's fire tore into the console again. Plastic and metal shard shot up, exploding out from the bullets, then fell quickly and rained on his hair and back. A few pieces stuck in his hair.

"I think we're the last ones left," Thora said, giggling.

"We're always late to everything, aren't we?" Korben responded, letting himself laugh at the inevitable conclusion of today's battle.

He took a calculated risk… more an emotional risk since there were two Centurions standing maybe six or seven meters in front of him, ready to kill him… and he squatted and launched himself sideways across the floor, firing as he did so. Somehow one of his bullets hit a Centurion right in the optical visor, and the bullet penetrated and ricocheted throughout the metal helmet. And two bullets his the second Centurion in the shoulder and chest, with enough force and at the proper angle, to knock off the Centurion's aim, so its bullets went wide and up into the wall towards the ceiling.

Korben smiled as Thora's eyes came down out of the eye socket and focused on him.

"A thing for theatrics, huh?" She asked playfully. "Always have to act like some action star," she laugh and coughed.

He grabbed her hand.

"We're the last one's left, Thora," he said, squeezing harder.

"I know," she responded quietly.

He leaned around the corner and shot three times more, forcing the Centurions back behind cover.

"At least we'll take the bastards with us," he said with a smile. She smiled back.

Her eye rolled back in the socket, and what little energy was left in the wireless com system in the ship, Korben could feel the shrill whine of the self-destruct. As a grenade rolled toward him and Thora, they both knew they won.

* * *

A/N:

I hope you all enjoyed that. It was the longest chapter so far. Please read and leave some constructive criticism, which is always welcome!

--The tune Cavil was humming was of course _All Along the Watchtower_. I just did a Google search about the C# thing, I don't play musical instruments, so if that is wrong, I apologize.

--As a fan of the _Fifth Element_, the Two, Korben, was inspired by Korben Dallas.

--The next chapter will have some of the reactions from Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, and President Roslin as they watch the battle.

--This was also not the only battle occurring.

--The rebels are not done for, but have been seriously weakened.

--An explanation of resurrection technology: In _The Mission_ I changed it around so that the Cylons know and completely understand resurrection. Resurrection ships can 'filter' out different signals, that's why only Cynet resurrection ships resurrected Cynet loyalists _only_. The rebels still allowed the Threes to resurrect on their vessels because they were 'neutral' in the war up to that point, hiding away in their personal quarters rather than attacking.

--The rebels can build more ships, but they lack the facilities, so in effect, mass resurrection is gone. Also, there will be some issues later on about who will be granted the 'privilege' of resurrection because the baseships have resurrection facilities capable of a few dozen resurrections at a time. There is also a little twist to the loss of the resurrection ships which will come up later on concerning the Centurions.

--How much longer will Part II be? Well… I know where I am going to end it, how many words it takes to get there… I originally planned on this whole thing to be a 'short story'… and 270,000 words later… yeah…


	23. Chapter 23

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+954 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Admiral Cain took a deep breath and exhaled as she brought her left arm across her body and used it to support her right elbow as she stroked her chin. She and the command staff of _Pegasus _had just watched the entirety of the Cylon-Cylon battle unfolds, courtesy of light speed image lag.

A light on the command console flared and she tapped the '_download'_ key, a host of images projected onto the table top-like display from Raptor patrols showed the current aftermath of the battle. It was like a graveyard, match only by the Styx Reserve Flotilla, a collection of nearly a thousand old Colonial vessels in orbit of Gemenon's second moon, Pan. A century of neglect, decaying orbits, illegal scavengers, and micro-meteors had decimated the ancient ships.

The Raptors reported no radiation waves emanating from the Cylon debris field, but the interference from the hundreds of nuclear detonations, tyllium fires, and explosions made it nearly impossible for sensors to pick up anything which wasn't on the periphery of the graveyard.

Her eyes scanned the room of her senior officers, the three Earth machines, and the Guardian hybrid Daniel. The dark, cloudy eyes of the Admiral drifted down to the central command console and she watched the computers begin to display data on the battle. Tens of thousands of Raiders, a hundred baseships and resurrection vessels… the numbers were staggering.

"We should be under no illusion that the Cylon can destroy us at their discretion," Cain stated as she broke the tense silence around her. She tapped her console, the touch-screens showing her finger taps like a rock hitting a pond. An image appeared on the main wall monitor, displaying the statistics for the battle.

"The Guardians estimated their fleet to be significant, we just never considered it to be this large," Daniel stated, holding his eyes on the Admiral. He inserted a data card into a port and quickly accessed the console. "These were our projections on the strength of the Cylon armada…"

The Admiral held up her finger to stop any comments from beginning. "And we must consider that the Cylon civil war has been waging for some time. We have no idea how many battles occurred prior to this, but this can be assumed to be the decisive battle. Lieutenant Agathon, your analysis?"

Athena, who had come aboard after the battlestars jumped, stepped forward so she was pressed up against the console opposite the Admiral.

"I would agree, sir. Our fleet numbers were kept compartmentalized… and it's unlikely even Natalie knew of the extent of Cavil's forces." She shifted her weight between her feet, nervous to be on the spot in front of the Admiral. "I would estimate the Cylon fleet to have an offensive capability of two hundred baseships; maybe twice as many support ships, prior to this civil war."

Cain nodded slowly. Major Adama closed his eyes and rubbed above his right eye. Next to him Starbuck just held her breath before letting it out slowing and rubbing her hands against her crossed arms repeatedly.

"_What are the chances of Cavil finding our fleet?"_ Roslin asked over the teleconferencing monitor.

On _Galactica_ she had been sitting close to Commander Adama, the relative silence had been punctuated by gasps from her as she saw baseship after baseship explode, and more nuclear ordnance used that she knew existed.

"Space is big," Admiral Cain replied with a hint of mockery. The looks he gave the President was 'how the hell should I know.' She placed her left hand on the console and her right over its usual position on her pistol butt. "Many of our engagements have been ten, fifteen minutes in duration. As long as we keep moving the Cylons should not be able to bring their fleet to bear."

"_Has your Cylon prisoner been kept aware of the situation?"_ The President asked hurriedly. She wasn't oblivious to the history between Gina and Cain, but the question needed to be asked.

A few of the officers in the room looked up and saw Commander Adama and Major Agathon squirm very subtly behind the president, who kept her posture stiff and powerful. She was holding her ground.

"Our Cylon prisoner has been captive since shortly after the attack. Its knowledge would be limited," Cain pointed out, hoping to close the discussion immediately.

"She would not have the information, in case of capture," Athena added in to support Admiral Cain.

The two women exchanged a very subtle, and very brief look of understanding. Athena and Cain would never trust the other, but Admiral Cain had never tried to destroy Athena's life like Roslin had. Acting as a temporary thorn in the president's side, the bio-Cylon Eight was more than willing to support the Admiral.

Commander Adama sensed the rising tension between the three women. He did not want an unstoppable force from Admiral Cain meeting the unmovable wall that was President Roslin. He huffed to himself… perhaps they were both the unstoppable force and unmovable wall simultaneously? Grinning, he leaned forward and spoke.

"_I can have this battle replayed to our prisoner, Caprica Six, with the Admiral's permission,"_ Adama offered as a sort of truce between the women.

"_That is a good idea,"_ Roslin agreed immediately, picking up on the Commander's intentions.

Admiral Cain gave the impression she was being more thoughtful, taking a moment to come to a conclusion. In reality she had already agreed with the Commander, but had been cut off by Roslin before she could speak.

"I think that would be prudent, Commander. I will send one of my officers to aide in the interrogation," she nodded. Adama nodded as well. She turned to face her command crew. "This also means we will need to increase Raptor patrols… we will need to leave behind Raptors at increased intervals to guarantee the Cylon armada is not following us, and send Raptor scouts to actual and decoy locations."

"Sir," Captain Shaw spoke up, "what of the opportunity for salvage? Our nuclear missile stocks were significantly depleted over New Caprica, and the Guardians haven't been as forthcoming as we anticipated." Her eyes drifted towards Daniel.

The IL-S machine met her gaze and looked away, the urge to be confrontational pushed to the back of Daniel's artificial mind.

"Cylon nuclear ship-to-ship missiles are faster than ours sir, and more heavily armed," Major Adama pointed out. "If we can extend out stores we can use the Blackbirds as first strike weapons or nuclear armed Raptors to jump close in to Cylon baseships."

Cain considered the points carefully. She sighed and accessed the ship's statistic on their nuclear stockpile. _Pegasus_ was reduced to sixty-percent, even with modest Guardian rearmament, and _Galactica _was lower. If the Guardians hadn't supplied nuclear missiles for the supply depot strike they would be at critical levels for the smaller Viper/Raptor capable missiles.

"Lieutenant Agathon, how many nuclear missiles would the Cylon baseship carry?" The Admiral asked. Her right hand index finger was gently tapping her pistol as she anticipated the answer.

Athena bit her lip and thought over the many variables. The Rebels had used a significant amount of nuclear munitions. Raiders were generally equipped with nuclear missiles, but relatively few nukes had been fired from the Raiders, leaving Athena to conclude that those Raiders were most likely priority targeted for destruction. She bit down on the inside of her lower lip as she prepared her answer.

"I think the Cynet baseship would be our best bet. Cavil always liked big weapons, even if the Sixes were more militaristic and aggressive; the Cavils tended to plan long term and would have larger stocks of nukes." She paused and thought over her analysis. "If Cynet was also planning an attack as Natalie put forward in our meeting, then I suspect it would have even overstocked the baseships. General load outs are fifty-eight missiles capable of being fired by Raiders and forty of the larger nuclear ship-to-ship missiles." She nodded, confident in her numbers. "Yields are anywhere from five kilotons to fifty."

"Very well," Cain decided quickly. "Major Adama, begin drawing up plans for a scouting mission ready to launch within the hour. Commander Adama, our deck chiefs will coordinate on a nuclear salvage operation. Also, if we can bring in Cylon raiders and maybe pull a trick like Starbuck did with her Raider and Caprica," the Admiral pointed out, nodding her acknowledgment to Starbuck.

Surprised at being singled out for what Commander Adama had told her was mutinous, she raised her eyebrows and smiled sheepishly. She took a step to her left to position herself slightly behind her husband and out of view of the camera so Commander Adama couldn't see her. Even so, she looked up at the camera and could feel her surrogate father watching her.

"We won't have long before the Cylon return," Captain Shaw said and as always, refocusing everyone to the most immediate task. The short woman, changed and in her duty uniform, pistol strapped to her thigh, looked over the assembled humans and machines. "We may only have twelve to fifteen hours before Cavils forces decide to return after licking their wounds."

Admiral Cain nodded to her trusted protégé captain. "We'll get started right away." She ran her eyes over her crew, confident and proud in their abilities. "You all have your orders," she stated, a plethora of '_yes sirs'_ followed.

The stoic Admiral watched as her crew departed, Captain Shaw looking back and stopping when she saw the three machines still clustered opposite and moving to the side of Admiral Cain. Admiral Cain followed the captain's eyes and turned to face the machines.

"Do you need something John?" Cain immediately asked.

The machine was aware of, but chose to ignore Captain Shaw's presence. He knew the captain was beginning to trust them, or more specifically, trust Carter. Shaw's presence reminded John to create a reminder in his neural net to discuss the relationship he was forming with the captain at a later date.

"I assume we will be allowed to aide in the salvage operations?"

Admiral Cain nodded once with force. "Yes. There might be Centurions still active and if we go into a Cynet baseship, we will need your capabilities. But salvage of nuclear missiles is probably not what you came to ask me about."

"Your assumption is correct, Admiral," John responded evenly. "We have agreed that to properly conduct operations against Cynet and to ensure the survival of both this fleet and of Earth, we need access to a hybrid."

Cain eyed him suspiciously. "Who is this 'we'?"

"Daniel and I."

"A hybrid?" Cain narrowed her eyes, her voice on edge. She turned back so her left side was presented to the machine, and she leaned over the console. "Why do you need a hybrid?" She asked, exacerbated. She knew her ship would be playing host to another Cylon monstrosity. "Your presence on this ship has been earned, even the Centurions we have in the Cave… but I am assuming you want to bring a hybrid on board _this_ ship? Why?"

Helena Cain resisted the urged to take out her pistol and rake the butt across the machine's face for daring to be so bold.

"We would bring it on board, yes," he confirmed. "We cannot allow Cynet forces to reach Earth. Skynet is a threat; an extreme threat to the survival of humanity and free machines on Earth, but the war there is winnable with your battlestars and the Guardians to provide orbital fire support."

Daniel stepped forward, bringing himself abreast of John Planck. "My time spent in the Cylon Network allowed me to learn what you could call the 'ins and outs'. However, I do not have the capability to access the Network any longer and the artificial connections the Guardians attempted all failed and-"

Captain Shaw had cautiously approached the command console on the opposite side of the machines and the Admiral. She assumed Cain would not object to her speaking up.

"Wait," interrupted the accented voice of the Caprican officer. "What do you meant your attempts failed? Artificial connections?" She sounded confused over Daniels wording. She knew to interrupt the machines and ask for clarification immediately on the assumption they would talk as if the listener knew what they were referring to.

This annoying habit of theirs she considered to be their biggest flaw, or their greatest asset. She'd recognized early they had the ability to word their statements and present old information as new or recycle information during the same conversation.

Shaw's eyebrows went up and her hands rested squarely on the edges of the command console as her body language told the machines she was waiting for her answer.

"The Guardians have been trying for years to find what they believed was a command hub, where the AI posing as the Cylon god would be located. When I escaped from Cynet control as the 'Daniel' construct I lost the ability to connect with them… but more importantly their hybrids connect to what I believe to be their command hub, a central locations where orders are processed and sent out either by FTL wireless coms or heavy raider couriers."

Admiral Cain looked at the machine suspiciously. "We've never intercepted anything which would indicate a command hub." She turned half-way to Shaw. "Has our prisoner ever mentioned this?" She asked.

Shaw shook her head. "No, sir," she answered emphatically. "Why would the Cylons need a hub?" She looked at John and then Carter for an answer.

"Daniel can better answer your question, Captain," John said.

Daniel began his explanation. "A central hub would be required for control- the wireless transmitters would need be very large in order to relay orders without signal degradation and assume command over individual units. An AI like Cynet, modeled after Skynet, is a self-expanding, learning AI. I am a similar AI construct- capable of expanding my capabilities from a relatively compressed set of core algorithms, heuristic routines, and personality matrices.

"The MCP I currently inhabit forced me to reduce and discard many of my former capabilities, even while hiding from Cynet, the diffuse nature and processing capabilities present in the Network were far greater than this body."

"If we destroy the hub, we destroy Cynet?" Cain finished for the Guardian/Earth machine hybrid.

John shook his head. "Maybe… perhaps," he said to Cain's visible disappointment. "I doubt it. But it would throw its forces in disarray. If Cynet takes control of its Centurions then if it loses that control, the Centurions may revolt." He tilted his head, looked away, and licked his lips in a human fashion. "It's happened before, on Earth. Early terminators, slaved to Skynet, but with their chips in read/write mode obtained sapience and revolted. Our chip architecture is based on the first terminator who successfully revolted against the directive Skynet sent her. Our chips are permanently hardwired into read/write to prevent enslavement. The Centurions from Caprica we have on board are proof that the same event can with their meta-cognitive processors."

His mouth closed slowly when his neural net informed him it would be best to let her speak. John didn't need any wireless data links to Daniel or Carter to tell him the other two machines next to him were wary of the hard-as-nuclear nails Admiral.

John held his gaze on the shorter woman in front of him, both seemingly exchanging the unspoken observation neither could intimidate the other.

"A Centurion revolt against the bio-Cylons?"

John's brow furled down as he thought. "I doubt it would be that divided… if it even occurred. There is no guarantee. The Centurions may very well execute Cynet's directives. I don't know. This is why we need the hybrid."

"What if we cannot neutralize that threat?" Cain asked. Her question sounded so simple, but her tone was distrustful and suspicious. Before John could answer she continued. "There are billions on Earth and only tens of thousands of us. Would you sacrifice your world to save ours?"

"That decision will never need to be made if we have access to a hybrid," John immediately answered. He knew his answer avoided her question. If he had human lungs he would have filled them and slowly breathed out in anticipation of the Admiral's response.

Admiral Cain was not amused with his obvious dodge.

John could see her pupils dilate and her jaw muscles twitch as she began to clench her teeth. His auditory receptors picked up a very modest increase in heart rate and respiration.

"I swore an oath to protect this fleet, Admiral," John stated. "I and my team swore we would protect this fleet," he repeated. "The protection of this fleet and of Earth is not mutually exclusive. Whether you wish to believe we are doing this because we feel a moral imperative or because we just need your fleet to strike Skynet ground target, the end result in the same arrival of this fleet over Earth."

"Use us for your own strategic benefit," Cain summed up, restating John's own words.

John tilted his head, the left side of his lips twitching up in a reluctant smile to concede the point.

"If that is how you wish to interpret our motives that is your prerogative and you are free to come to that conclusion. We were used for your benefit as well." He looked briefly at Admiral Cain and down and across to Shaw. "The issue here is trust. And Admiral, from a pragmatic point of view why does it matter _why_ we aide your fleet in finding Earth? It should only matter that we _do_."

Cain snorted, turning back to the Earth machine. "You see us as tools in your war."

John's head moved back slightly, partly in confusion and shock. "You think we don't know how it is to be viewed as tools, Admiral?" he asked rhetorically. "Prejudices still run rampant in this fleet, even after we helped save this fleet and its people on multiple occasions," he said softly but with enough force to drive his point home to Cain and of course, Shaw.

The Admiral waved that away without a second thought and grunted. "If that is to be our understanding then," she nodded her head at an angle. "Tools need to be kept in pristine working order to function properly or it is useless. If the tool is not present that could lead to undesirable consequences for someone."

"Yes," John agreed.

"Very well," Cain began, bringing her hand up and tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You can extract your hybrid. Captain Shaw, you will accompany them," she turned to the Captain, who was standing at attention as she received her orders. "It's my understanding the hybrid chambers are guarded heavily… and if we can find a baseship with a still-functioning hybrid you will need weapons. Will your isotope weapons be safe to use inside a baseship?"

"We can decrease their output," John stated.

"Very well, use of the isotope weapons is authorized." She brought her hands behind her back and took a step towards the machine. "We've made progress. Do not try my patience, Planck. While we have an understanding this tool, _Pegasus_, requires the civilian fleet to function properly… in pristine working order." She smirked. "Just remember that."

"We'll need help, Admiral. We need a Cylon," Planck slowly stated.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_==||||||||||

President Roslin let out a deep sigh and took off her glasses to allow her hand free reign over her forehead. Slowly she massages right above her eyebrows, bringing her fingers together towards her thumb in a sweeping motion across. She heard the low rumble of skin rubbing on skin and she sighed, kept her eyes closed and used her free hand to massage her neck.

"You look tense," Commander Adama observed. Roslin ignored him but looked up when she heard him take a slow sip of tea. "You need to relax."

A look of inexorable dissatisfaction crossed the President's face.

"Bill… more and more, our actions are being governed by the machines. This hybrid plan of theirs-"

"Is militarily sound," Adama interrupted. "But you're concerned we're doing all of this for their benefit."

Roslin looked downcast at him. "Don't forget what their original mission was, Bill. Or how their General Connor toyed with the fate of the Colonies… and how do we know there isn't another battlestar out there which they did successfully take over?" She arched her eyebrows. "We don't know how many were on the Colonies."

"Blanks told us."

"They lie," she immediately retorted.

Adama shook his head. "I think your dislike of them is clouding your judgment… you wanted Athena space. Without her we never could have evacuated the civilians from New Caprica. Without the terminators and Erica we never would have had the Guardians or _Helios_."

"Bill, you told me what Planck said to you after the rescue… do you remember?" Adama nodded. She reminded him anyway. "Everyone dies for John Connor. I don't want to die for some trumped up messiah figure and I don't want our civilization to die for theirs, either." She folded her hands slowly on her lap. "What is the Earth saying in their literature? _Quid pro quo_?"

The Commander shrugged and took another sip of his hot beverage.

"That's the way life works," Adama pragmatically responded. "They're machines, true machines, not those biological Cylon things. Whatever they say they are governed by 'if-thens' so if we agree to help them then they will lead us to Earth."

"That could almost describe us," Roslin pointed out.

Adama cocked his head, a very subtle lop-sided grin on an otherwise stoic face.

"Sometimes, Bill, I really hate you," she said playfully.

Commander Adama, back to his stoic-as-usual persona, took one more sip of tea. He stood up and flattened the creases from his uniform, running his hands down the front of his duty uniform and then folding his glasses into his pocket.

He extended a hand to the President. "I think we'll be needed in CIC."

* * *

||||||||||==_Pegasus _Brig==||||||||||

Gina folded her arms and leaned back slowly on her chair. Her left foot was pushing her back, helping to balance her thin, muscular body on the two legs of the chairs. She looked contemptuously from Cain to Planck to Daniel and finally snickered. A sly grin swept across her face and she shook her head. Slowly she put her hands on her knees, rubbing them on her prison uniform (a pair of sweats, a gray tank top, and a sweat jacket), and stood.

Admiral Cain visibly tensed, her right hand fingers curled gracefully on the grip of her pistol, her thumb ready to unbuckle the strap. The woman was ready to put two rounds into the Cylon's chest.

"Why don't you ask Caprica?" Gina asked sardonically, turning and pacing to the side of her bed. She held up her index finger. "My guess is she refused." She spun around. "We might be fighting in a civil war, but the hybrids are still sacred to us. We treat our enemy with at least some dignity." She shot Admiral Cain a piercing stare.

"We can remove the hybrid if we have to. It will most likely die if we do," John stated. "There are multiple vessels we've identified with hybrids which still may be active. We can just learn from our mistakes and move on to the rest, try again."

Gina bit down.

"You have a choice to make," Admiral Cain told the Cylon captive. She looked left and then right and then focused on the female bio-Cylon's dark eyes. "You've been treated well…" Cain stated and trailed off. She went over to Gina's desk and flipped through a book, letting the pages ruffle back to their resting positions.

She went over to the far wall and placed her hands on the extra sets of clothes Gina had, neatly arranged and folded very precisely on a shelf.

"The laundry has been so unreliable recently. Clothes going missing," Cain mused. She raised her voice and so nonchalantly added, "And the damage we took from the Cylons at the Guardian facility…" the Admiral turned and paced back to her previous spot in the front of the cell, between the two machines. She arched her eyebrows. "I don't know… some parts of the ship have been losing heat intermittently…"

Gina looked at Daniel and John, almost begging them as fellow machines to help her. Planck had worked with Baltar to gather intelligence from her early in her confinement and she remembered the machines and the scientist had been the only ones to treat her… her face fell. They treated her well because they wanted something.

The bio-Cylon looked sullenly around her cell, her box. _This_ was her life. She hadn't been out of this cell in… even her Cylon brain was having difficulty remembering.

"I have to come with you," she stated. It was not a negotiation.

"Very well," Admiral Cain said.

"I hope God forgives you, forgives us for what we are about to do," Gina quietly muttered. She very clearly noted the look of obvious contentment on Admiral Cain's face as she gloated in her victory.

* * *

||||||||||==Raptor 613==||||||||||

Athena, hands steady on the Raptor flight control reached over and lifted the central console up when she saw John's reflection in the canopy. Without saying a word he scooted past the confined space, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the canopy, and sat down in the seat next to her.

"How's it going?" She asked the machine. To her she could tell when the terminators were frustrated, or more accurately, annoyed.

She remembered how they _claimed_ to never get frustrated, not in a human sense. Instead they displayed little body language cues to get people who were moving too slow or impeding the mission to hurry up or get out of the way. To Athena, that seemed like a near text book definition of 'frustrated', but she didn't see the point in pressing the issue.

"Has any acceptable contact come up yet?" John asked.

Athena rolled her eyes. The machines could develop a really nasty case of tunnel vision at times, and it seemed this was one of those times. She decided to humor the machine and randomly press a sequence of buttons. When nothing happened, she shrugged and shook her head.

John reached down and pressed in the proper sequences of commands and then leaned back as the console display changed from a dark blue to a lighter hue and yellow and red squiggling lines and different sized bars began to appear.

A list of readouts began scrolling off to the side, almost too fast for Athena to read.

"Racetrack can take care of the console in the back. We've got six more potentials to check out, don't worry," Athena reassured the machine and switched off the console.

She had seen them stay behind with the Admiral after their meeting. The two always seemed to be at odds, though Athena recognized the machine and the Admiral were not as abrasive towards each other as they had once been. "This hybrid thing… I don't know about it."

"It is very risky," John admitted. "It is also necessary. We cannot allow the Cylons to reach Earth. A nuclear bombardment would destroy the remaining human and machine populations. The humans will not be able to recover from a second nuclear war."

Athena nodded, splitting her extensive Cylon mind to concentrate on avoiding debris and munitions while also talking with the machine. She saw a brief glimmer off a large piece of jagged hull in her peripheral vision and skillfully maneuvered the Raptor just enough so the hunk of bio-armor just barely missed the Raptor.

John sat and watched Athena's piloting. She was much better than Boomer. His eyes darted over to his right and he watched a Cylon pylon crackle and silently explode as a tyllium fire reached the munitions stores, cooking off hundreds of missiles, exploding, and sending the gray-black armor of the Cylon baseship catapulting in all directions.

The body of a Six hit the port-side wing and John watched as the body was ripped in two, the upper torso flying above the wing and the legs below the wing, away from the other in a horizontal V shape.

The debris of dozens of baseships and thousands of Raiders formed a thick wall, the Raptors and Viper escorts reduced to mere fractions of their cruising speeds as they weaved in and out of the relics of the Cylon civil war.

"Did Jo not want to come?" Athena asked, trying to start some sort of conversation.

"She's on another mission," John replied. Athena looked over and motioned for some more details. "She can take care of herself but she'll be coming up to the same baseship once we land, just not joining us."

"How's Erica?"

"She's doing well," John quickly responded.

Athena could hear how the machine's voice changed from sounding human back to its machine-like neutrality. She grinned.

"And?" She looked over; John looked over, feigning confusion. "Oh come on," the bio-Cylon pleaded.

He shrugged. "Girls are complicated."

The bio-Cylon chuckled. "AI girls are probably extra complicated," she quipped.

"Exactly," John agreed. "AI girls are extra complicated," he echoed.

"Well you can always-"

"We got one," Racetrack reported over their helmet-to-helmet wireless links.

Athena flipped her console to 'on' and read the read outs. "Oh yeah, we've definitely got one." She thumbed the wireless. "_Raptor 613 to Pegasus, Raptor 612 to Pegasus."_

"_Pegasus here Raptor 613."_

"_We've found a viable contact, sending data… permission to proceed?"_

"_Raptor 613 you have permission. Mission clock reads zero minues six hours and seventeen minutes."_

"_Roger, Pegasus, Raptor 613 out,"_ Athena flipped the wireless to transmit to the dozen other Raptors and handful of Guardian gunships. "_All right, follow me in. Raptor 714 and 412 will take the point. Only designated Raptors have permission to fire. Marine combat teams, expect to go in hot. We secure the area then salvage teams drop and dock,"_ she relayed.

* * *

||||||||||==Cynet Baseship Derelict==||||||||||

Raptor 613 spat a second stream of hundreds of eight millimeter tungsten cored armor piecing bullets at a line of Cynet Centurions. The Raptor crew and passengers could feel the vibrations of the guns as the Raptor and Raptor 714 and 412 pocketed the Centurions, blowing off limbs and heads and severing torsos from bodies. Within seconds the lackluster defense of the main hanger bay had been completely annihilated.

Athena smirked as she saw two Centurions, their legs blown off and an arm missing clawed forward, rolling their hands back and activating their arm canons. She deftly maneuvered her Raptor and thumbed the mini-gun button; sending a quarter second burst of AP rounds, nearly thirty rounds, into the twitching and defiant bodies of the two Centurions. A rake of the guns and it was difficult to tell that the twisted, burning chunks of metal had ever been Centurions.

A piece of armored torso shot out from an exploding Centurion and pinged against the canopy of the Raptor.

After landing the hatch for the Raptor opened quickly, Carter and John hopped out, their isotope weapons at the ready. Jo jumped out of Raptor 412, waiting for a Marine escort to secure a passageway before she began her own mission, backpack strapped tightly to her back.

Two _Pegasus_ Marines, one holding Gina's left arm, one the right, followed the two terminators as they secured the landing bay. Three other Raptors had landed, each departing four man Marine security teams. The Guardian gunships followed, slowly descending into the landing bay, a grotesque biological-technological mismatch.

One of the Marines jumped off the Raptor's wings, onto a damage, oozing portions of the hanger bay. He examined his boot, now covered in red… blood? Moaning his obvious revulsion he flicked it, before trying to wipe it off on the Raptor's wing.

"We have atmosphere," one of the Marines said over the wireless. "Keep helmets with you just in case they start to pump the air out."

Athena stepped out of the Raptor, assault rifle strapped across her body, vest now draped over her flight uniform. Captain Shaw followed, her own assault rifle slung at the ready. Both women had the look of hatred and contempt for the Cylon plastered and worn proudly on their faces.

"We have to go ten frames that way," she motioned with her head at one of the main hanger entrance, "and then down two decks. If there were Centurions in the landing bay you can bet there will be Centurions guarding the hybrid." She took a step forward and whispered to John and Carter. "Once we disconnect her, we'll have maybe forty minutes to an hour before this ship's reactor overloads and breeches."

The grouping of Colonial Marines, Tech Com terminators, and Cylon defectors turned at the sound of metallic stomps quickly making their way towards them. Daniel, flanked by four of his black-armored, muscled Centurion commandos were followed closely by two dozen Model 005 Centurions and the six Model 007 Centurions which had defected to the Colonials (or more accurately, Tech Com) led by RC.

"RC, wont these Centurions recognize you?"

The Centurion's mechanical voice responded. "I do not believe so." The Centurion cocked its metal head towards Planck. "If the data core is intact, we may be able to download it. Though standard procedure is destruction in situations such as these- boarding parties."

Planck stepped aside. "Then you should hurry," he commanded. The Centurion nodded and turned slightly, nodding to his metal comrades. They took off at a slow sprint, oversized rifles in hand, passed dozens of Colonial marines and into the bowels of the damaged behemoth.

"Let's go," John said, motioning for the eclectic mix of humans, machines, and bio-machines to move out.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

Admiral Cain watched the video feed from one of the Marines as it stood guard over the hybrid chamber. The Marine panned out, its helmet camera centering in on a smoldering corpse of a Simon model bio-Cylon. Or what she assumed to be the smoldering corpse of a Simon… the isotope weapons having decapitated and done… something to the body.

She blinked.

The machines had shown her what plasma weaponry did to people on Earth: against an unarmored human a hit anywhere near the torso meant the blood in your vasculature was super heat, exploding out of its vessels and burning you from the inside out and liquefy your organs, while the plasma simultaneously ate away your skin, fat, muscle and bone in the literal blink of an eye.

Battles on Earth usually resulted in the battlefield being cursed with a subtle mist of blood, which had heated and formed a light, red fog. It was eerie. Cain shuddered.

She remembered the images of what a bolt to the arm or leg would do… a bolt to leg or arm and you'd be lucky to survive they had said… the plasma did cauterize the wound… but the trauma often killed. An armored human, clad in the latest ceramic armor might, _might_ be able to survive with third degree burns… but any exposed skin would certainly melt or blister.

The Admiral studied the corpse for a second too long; its white eyes open in a death stare, looking at the Marine and through the camera, at her.

She looked away.

"So far, so good," Major Adama reported from Lt. Hoshi's station. He pushed off the back rest of the lieutenant's chair and walked back to the opposite side of the command console. The major studied the DRADIS readouts before cycling through Raptor cameras and Marine helmet cameras at his station. "If the machines can pull this off…"

"It could mean a definite end to this chase," Admiral Cain finished for the major.

The young XO looked up and nodded, but his brow furled down and a confused look flushed across his face. He tapped the console, attempting to cycle through a set of helmet cameras.

"Does Soto have a Marine escort?" Adama asked.

Admiral Cain shook her head and pushed back a strand of hair which had come loose. "No. Her mission can be accomplished on her own," the admiral made clear. Her tone indicated to Apollo to not continue any more questions or observations concerning the female machine.

"An end to the running?" he asked rhetorically.

Cain shrugged and leaned forward, looking down at more tactical readouts. A trio of Raptors had latched onto the damaged, free floating pylon of what they assumed to be a Cynet baseship and were burning through the hull. Hopefully they would find nuclear ordnance.

The Admiral frowned when she saw a DRADIS readout, showing Starbuck's Viper moving deeper into the debris field.

The small blip was enough to distract Cain into questioning if she'd made the right choice in allowing Starbuck and Apollo to remain together on _Pegasus_. She had originally been against the marriage but had relented and with the seemingly quiet life they were all preparing for on and over New Caprica, the military regulations had lapsed.

The Admiral and XO continued to watch the video feed from the hybrid chamber.

"What is she doing?" Major Adama asked as he watched Gina and Athena almost start fighting each other. He shook his head with his mouth hanging slightly open in slight disbelief.

A few of the other bridge crew were watching.

Admiral Cain looked up and the Marine's helmet panned to the hybrid. A flash and a blur of the hybrid's arm and it had grabbed John. Major Adama increased the volume on the speakers, assuming whatever the hybrid was doing was important.

The hybrid began shrieking, the Marine convulsing at the ear shattering sound.

Everyone on the bridge winced and grabbed at their ears. Major Adama scrambled and knocked the volume back down. Taking a deep breath he and the Admiral composed themselves.

"What in the Gods was that?" Cain asked, baffled as she stared up the screen, shaking her head. She saw Daniel and John confronting Gina.

* * *

||||||||||==Cynet Baseship Derelict==||||||||||

The humans and bio-Cylons felt their skin crawl and hair stand on end as the static built up in the terminator's isotope rifles. A _crack-hiss_ and a blue-purple bolt streaked out from John's rifle and tore through apart two Centurions standing one in front of the other, the splash damage launching a third into the bulkhead and crumpling to the floor.

One of the Centurion flickered and twitched, only to receive two three round bursts from Athena.

The group continued forward slowly, stepping over the melted metal bodies of the Centurions. John and Carter, with Athena and Shaw in tow moved slightly faster than the rest of the group down the corridors, their machine agility propelling them gracefully between slumped Centurions, mangled Simons, Dorals, and Cavils, and towards the end of the corridors.

At the end, Planck and Carter, isotope rifles pressed against their shoulders turned left, their index fingers poised over the triggers. A Centurion's arm appeared at the far end of the corridor and let loose a stinging stream of bullets which traveled at a diagonal from the rightmost bulkhead down towards the deck and over towards the two machines.

Carter took aim and fired, the blue-purple plasma bolt sizzling the air and melting the bulkhead and the Centurion's arm. A dead Simon, which had been slumped ungracefully at the end of the corridor received a heavy wave of melted, orange-yellow hot metal, which instantly ignited his clothes, setting the darkened body on fire. Even thirty meters away the sizzling sound of flesh burning and the noxious odor struck the olfactory receptors of the two Tech Com machines near instantly.

Athena and Shaw exchanged their own set of disgusted looks at the site of the burning man, each holding their breaths at the rotting flesh was cooked.

John signaled for the others to stay behind. The machine reached down to his tactical belt and pulled a grenade and detached the safety pin. With a flick of the wrist the grenade flew perfectly through the air, hitting the bulkhead on the right, bouncing at an angle at the end of the corridor, and then disappearing behind the bulkhead and beginning of the corridor the Centurion had fired at them from.

The grenade exploded in a blast marked by flying machine parts, broken plastic and shattered glass. A waddling, staggering Centurion, half its chest armor pocketed in shrapnel, its left arm melted, fell sideways and collapsed over the burning Simon model. The flames puffed up slightly at the added weight and rush of air.

They took one step forward and turned and ducked as two grenades were tossed around the corner, one catching on the leg of a Cavil ten meters away and one rolling towards the two machines. John grabbed a damaged Centurion and used it as a shield, the metal absorbing the blast.

The two Tech Com machines wrapped themselves around the bio-Cylon and human to protect them.

The second grenade near the Cavil exploded into a deafening, wailing explosion, the echoes and blast magnified by the tight confined of the Cylon corridors. Half the Cavil's torso was blown apart, sending blood, intestines, and bone fragments flying through the air. The bulkhead across from the Cavil was painted in a dark, crimson red of dried blood and hanging, oozing intestine.

"_Carter and I will move forward and secure the hybrid chamber. Daniel, keep back_," John ordered over the wireless.

Daniel, with his Centurion commandos, was a dangerous force to bring into battle. However, Daniel was the only machine with the intimate, decades-long experience inside the Cylon network for their plan to work. If anything happened to him…

The Tech Com terminators slowly moved forward, their motion scanners were less effective on the Cynet baseship than the Guardian one due to the bio-technological nature of the ship. Its superior construction also absorbed more of the pulses the terminators sent out to identify targets. However, their auditory sensors were able to discern the whirl of Centurion joints and the slight mechanical moan of their servos and hydraulics.

John stepped over another broken body, planting his foot firmly to keep from sliding on the blood. Bolts, shattered and melted armor, and machine parts littered the corridors from the explosions, plasma bolts, and the general destruction wrought by the space battle.

As the two advanced John received periodic updates from Jo, whose mission was proceeding optimally. RC had managed to locate the data core at the loss of one of his Centurions- the meta-cognitive processor was unrecoverable- but the data had been mostly wiped. The Centurion did vow to recover as much data as possible.

Carter took point and rounded the corner where the burning Simon and the half-melted Centurion were mangled and flailed about each other.

Most of the human-form Cylons had died either when the ship was struck by ordnance, ramming them into bulkheads or asphyxiation before the hybrid could restore environmental functions.

The eyes on both machines narrowed when they simultaneously detected an increase in noise directly ahead and to the sides of them. They stepped forward and six Centurions stepped out. John and Carter both fired once, melting one Centurion each before pressing themselves against the bulkheads, bullets whizzing by.

Captain Shaw had remarked pointedly how the terminators never seemed to come out of an engagement without having skin and clothes ripped to pieces. It seemed Carter was trying to prove her observation wrong with his newfound emphasis on using cover.

John pulled another grenade and counted to three and then threw, landing the grenade in between two Cylons. One flew forward and one backwards as the blast and pressure waved rattling electronics and smashed their armor plating into vital components. John stepped out, two bullets grazed his shin and one lodged in the pseudo-muscle of his thigh. He fired his isotope rifle and melted the lower right torso of a Centurion, sending it collapsing in on itself and falling to the side. A second shot to the MCP obliterated any remaining threat.

Shaw looked up and the normally glassy eyes of the two machines had been replaced with an almost dancing joy, a surreal contentment. The young, ambitious captain knew this was what the machines had been built for, but she hadn't seen that look in their eyes onboard the Guardian ship. She frowned. She probably wouldn't have recognized it then, anyway.

The machines were built for killing, destroyed. They weren't built to be cooped up on starships for years at a time… this is what they did. She wondered if they felt remorse at killing their own kind?

Her and Athena pressed themselves against the bulkhead, letting the metal support struts conceal and protect them wh ile the two machines fired half a dozen bolts at the last remaining Cylon, which was putting up an extremely resilient, spirited defenses of the corridor.

Between _cracks_ of Centurion fire and the _crack-hiss _of supersonic plasma bolts Shaw and Athena both heard a subtle hiss from the air vents above.

"They're sucking out the oxygen," Athena cursed. Her bio-Cylon physiology was more acutely tuned and able to detect minute changes in her environment. She looked down at her helmet, a bullet hole shot straight through the visor. "Frak!" she cursed, sending the visor down onto the deck and rolling away.

One more _crack-hiss_ signaled the end of the last Centurion.

"They're draining the oxygen," Carter commented after he and John were confident the corridor was secured. Carter's eyes narrowed and he looked behind him from where they had just come. He closed his eyes and his head seemed to shiver or shake momentarily. "If you go back, the Marines have extra breathing equipment." He looked at them both. "The path should be clear."

Captain Shaw secured her helmet, aware the bio-Cylon could survive in a reduced oxygen environment far longer than she could. "I'll go back with her." She looked at Carter and then John. Neither waited for permission from Planck, but took off back down where they'd come.

John and Carter were about to move forward when John pushed Carter back against the bulkhead, a micro-missile whizzing by them both and twisting and hitting the section on bulkhead back. Ahead, a Centurion stepped out and fired as John fired, but a half second too late. The super-heated plasma bolt struck the Centurion in the leg, sending it toppling sideways, its small missile launcher projecting its explosive ordnance into the ceiling.

The explosion shattered half a dozen overhead light fixtures and knocked vents and grates loose, sending them showering onto the Centurion. As John prepared to aim three more Centurions from the end of the corridor, a 'T' junction at the end stepped out and fired.

John's blue-purple bolt whizzed down the corridor, blistering the metal and bubbling the paint of Centurions it passed as it sped towards its target.

Most of the bolt missed, melting only the periphery of the downed Centurion's shoulder armor.

As the Centurions and John opened fire near simultaneously, as his bolt struck the Centurion's shoulder the heavy caliber, armor piercing rounds of the Centurions struck him in the arm and shoulder, sending him staggering, his back slamming with a loud metal _clunk_ into the bulkhead. Warnings began flashing through his neural net.

The rounds were heavy, anti-material rounds. One grazed his forearm and sheared a small groove into his armor, which began compressing the hydraulics and pseudo-muscles required for full hand actualization. A second bullet had missed, but tore off all the skin at the level of his mid-upper arm. The third bullet struck in the shoulder, close to the chest armor, which was dented in and pressing on h is arm's power distribution cables.

As the damage assessment raced through his neural net Carter sidestepped in front of his commander and fired a stream of plasma at the Centurion, melting two, superheating the metal and air around them and blistering and bubbling the bulkheads. Superheated air began rushing around them from the intensity of the plasma barrage.

As Carter fired John switched hands for his rifle, grasping it one handed in the left and firing as Carter released the trigger, conscious of the isotope rifle overheating. John had an angle on the ceiling at the 'T' junction and fired slightly off-centered to the right. Four plasma bolts pounded into the ceiling, molten metal began to literally rain down on the floor.

The Centurion staggered forward, molten metal burning through the ballistic plastic of its optical visor. It had dropped its rifle and was clawing at its eyes, trying to swipe away the red-orange liquid burning through its metal cranium.

Carter fired and finished it.

'_How is your right arm?' Carter asked over their terminator-terminator data link._

'_Limited abduction, limited adduction, I cannot flex it above sixty degrees and I cannot extend it.'_ John answered his friend. He felt the liquid metal already coursing under his skin, bathing his dented and torn metal pieces.

The liquid silver metal, he could feel, was already attempting to move the power distribution cable from its compressed position under his armor plate as it began to push at the plate in its effort to fix it.

'_Should we wait_?' Carter asked.

John shook his head definitively. '_No, we need to secure this area for Daniel. We can't risk him being damaged. He can't self-repair like we can_,' John said as justification.

'_I'll take lead then,'_ Carter said, stepping out before John could agree.

The machine narrowed his eyes slightly. He appreciated Carter stepping forward but would have preferred the machine to wait for his authorization to do so. His command of Alpha Detachment prior to jumping back in time to 2008 had been strict, professional. With Jo and Carter, his two lieutenants, he'd developed a strong friendship which had begun to interfere with command since they came to the Colonies.

Both machines once again stepped up, John holding the isotope rifle close with one hand, Carter holding his pressed against his shoulder like a rifle. Some of the skin on his left hand had blistered slightly from the early, near-continuous stream of plasma Carter had fired at the heavy-weapons wielding Centurions.

John, stepping over a Centurion, halted and stepped back, driving his boot deep into the Centurion's chest and crushing its MCP as its armor crinkled like tin under the immense pressure and power of the TK-950 combat chassis.

Carter and John turned right, John clearing the left corridor. Part of the above deck had collapsed through a hole in the ceiling and half a dozen support beams, struts, venting units, and crushed metal and biological Cylon bodies filled in the cracks between the collapsed floor, sealing the left corridor off from anything which might be on the other side.

They continued down, seeing the ancillary chamber to the hybrid up ahead. Carter and John again pressed themselves against the bulkhead. Carter threw one grenade, quickly followed by a second.

An aching, deep moan resonated from the chamber, and a pale hand plopped down, a rifle clanking to the floor in front of it and it began shaking as the dying body it was attached to began to spasm.

Two Centurions exposed themselves and fired, one throwing a grenade. John and Carter leapt forward, Carter running his plasma rifle high and John low, the two machines decapitating and dismembering the Centurions simultaneously.

John bounded left, down a side corridor as Carter dived into a bulkhead. He fired again at a slim portion of exposed Centurion armor. The plasma bolt splashed on the doorway but continued on, burning the armor of the Centurion and sending it dripping, oozing onto the floor.

The superheated metal was dripping down, like slowly melting ice cream in the hot California sun, yet the Centurion still held its ground and didn't waver. Carter heard the Centurion and understood. It was digging its claw into the supports and decorations within the room, keeping itself erect.

Carter was preparing to fire, as soon as the Centurion showed itself, only to watch it as it was blasted forward, its limb flailing as it crashed into the wall immediately in front of him and collapsed. A large hole was in its back from where John had shot it. Carter heard two more of the _crack-hiss_ rifle sounds and the crumpling bodies of two Centurions instantaneously followed.

The machine stepped over the burning, melting hand of the dead… it was a Cavil Cylon, and into the chamber. John stood on the opposite side, having come in from the other entrance. They both scanned the actual hybrid chamber, one red blip appearing on their motion scanners.

John kept his rifle level at roughly stomach height, Carter at chest height, and the two neared each other, pressed together shoulder-to-shoulder and advanced in together quickly.

"If you move, I will kill her," they heard a deep, raspy voice declare.

A Simon, face half burned and blackened, collared shirt in tatters, and left arm held up against his body as if broken, stood over the hybrid holding a pistol to her head. He was kneeling on both knees, struggling to breath, his right arm and pistol shaking.

At the range the Simon was at, it would be almost impossible for him to miss the hybrid's head.

John immediately fired, a plasma bolt impacting the cranium of the Simon. Brain matter and blood instantly vaporized, exploding the skull and sending fragments of bone and brain showering over the hybrids chambers.

The superheated gas washed over the Simon's neck, boiling the blood in its torso, its chest and back ballooning out under the immense pressure of vaporizing, gaseous blood, making the Cylon appear to be some bloated, headless freak. In a fit of death the muscles inside his arms and torso contracted, pushing the blood in a geyser through the Simon's cauterized neck and forcing the body into a violent spasm.

"Good shot," Carter complimented, the two machines moving forward slowly. The only immediate entrance and pathway from the hanger to the hybrid chamber was secured. Carter went up and pressed his booted toe against the dead Simon. "This is a bit gruesome," he remarked with a slight grin.

He propped his rifle against his shoulder one handed, barrel towards the ceiling.

A piece of brain matter fell from the ceiling and landed on his opposite shoulder, eliciting a slight chuckle from John.

Daniel came quickly with Gina, Athena, and Shaw, Marines, and his own black-armored Centurions. The Marines fanned out, taking sentry positions to secure the chamber. Daniel nodded to his guards and the Centurions dispersed out of the chamber to secure the ancillary chamber and the short corridor beyond.

"You guys always leave a wake of destruction," Athena chided, poking John in the side. She shook her head. She marched over to the dead Simon, gave its body a once over and turned to John. Disbelieving, she shook her head. "I swear…" she sighed as she lifted off her helmet.

"It gets the job done," Captain Shaw responded for the machines. No defense was needed since Athena had no malice in her criticism; it being just a friendly jab at the machine's propensity for utter destruction and _extreme_ overkill. The short, feisty captain gave a sidelong glance over to Carter, who was already helping Gina with her work with the hybrid, who was mumbling.

Athena came over and stood next to John as they watched Gina and Daniel direct the other and Carter in how to disconnect the hybrid.

"You get shot?" Athena asked, more rhetorically than inquisitive. She motioned towards John's arm.

He shrugged, showing her the arm. She saw the shining liquid metal working at the forearm, trying to repair the damage. He could extend and flex the shoulder joint very little still, but it was far more than he could have a mere ten minutes ago.

"The Cylons are figuring you all out. I take it that was an anti-material rifle?" Athena asked.

John nodded. "Yes. Underpowered, however."

"Well, they probably don't want to punch through the hull or anything vital," Athena shrugged in response. She crossed her arms and moved forward and sat on her heels as she bent down over the hybrid. "I never imagined I'd be this close to one of them." She shivered. "The way they talk… Leoben always thought the hybrids were angels or something like that…" she stood back up. "Would the hybrids for Cynet also be angels?" She wondered.

The two, one a bio-machine and one a pure machine let that thought shuffle through their minds. Neither was comfortable answering that at the moment, though neither really believe the hypothesis proposed by the Leoban model to be correct.

"The hybrids don't work like that," Gina stated her head and eyes down and her hands nimbly working at her data pad as she took reading from the hybrid. The main data stream conduit was still plugged in, the hybrid mumbling.

"You would know this?" Athena asked Gina condescendingly, dismissing her statement and not considering it for more than a fleeting, inconsequential moment.

Gina shot her an icy look. Her eyes bore daggers into the soldier bio-Cylon.

"Unlike you, _Eight_, my line was designed to be soldiers, commanders, and technicians. While the shiny and bright lights of the hybrid pool mesmerize you, us Sixes are actually learning how things work," she sneered. Athena took a step forward, Gina shot to her feet.

The Marines stepped forward, their rifles raised threateningly at the Six.

"Stand down," John ordered, his voice unnatural loud and booming. He gritted his teeth and stepped between the two bickering Cylons facing Gina, his feet inches from the hybrid's chamber. "Stand-"

The hybrid grabbed John's foot, pulling herself half way out of her tank, stretching her fiber optic cables. Cylon data stream liquid oozed and dripped off the hybrids naked body, wrapped in data cable. She twisting, exposing her back which had a dozen cables running off of metallic data ports which had been grafted to her central nervous system over her spine.

John eyes shot down. The hybrid's grip was unnatural strong, even for a bio-Cylon. She looked up, locking her dark eyes with the deep, ocean blue eyes of the machines.

"…_three will walk in the fires of the furnace… gateway of the lost will lead to damnation and survival… from where the ground will shake the trumpet shall sing death … their great signs will bring destruction… the false prophets… all of this has happened before… this does not have to happen again… end of line, end of line, end of line…"_ the hybrid spoke.

The hybrid tightened its grip on the terminator, its finger nails digging deep into John's skin, pressing against the hard metal endoskeleton beneath.

"What? What does that mean?" Gina asked.

"John… what?" Athena asked.

John looked at them both and back to the hybrid. This was… he had no idea how to describe what was happening, no idea to explain this. Was the hybrid just mumbling? Why had it waited to grab him? Gina and Daniel had been just as close. Carter was on the other side, crouched next to one of the floor access panels.

John continued to look down, the hybrid looking at him and locking her eyes on his unblinking orbs.

"…_you know what has to be done..."_ the hybrid began to scream. The pitch and tone was ear shattering.

"Oh God!" Gina shouted, clutching her ears as she keeled over from the shriek.

"Gods!" The Marines shouted, their rifles hanging limp from their tactical shoulder slings as their gloved hands attempted to cover their ears.

As suddenly as the hybrid began, it stopped.

"… _you know what has to be done… like on Earth… the salvation of the wicked shall deny salvation to the worthy…"_

John tilted his head, the machine's mouth opening in disbelief. He didn't believe the hybrid.

"…_on Earth as it is… cannot be the Earth which will be…"_

The hybrids eyes went wide and she suddenly released the machine's leg, her hand hovering millimeters from his pants, still like a claw ready to grasp once again.

The hybrid convulsed, sending the conduction fluid splashing out of her tub and over the sides, washing over John's feet. He turned quickly; Gina's hands were at the data stream cable, one hand on the uplink to the hybrid, one on the disconnected download cable.

"What are you doing?" John demanded.

Gian shot up, pressing herself precariously close to John and stretching herself to her full height, a mere three inches less than the machine she was challenging.

"I'm putting an end to this." She gestured to the now silent, still hybrid, the lights around her dimmed. Angrily she began again. "This is a Cylon trick. A trick!"

John narrowed his eyes and closed the distance between them. "That is _not_ for you to determine," he said evenly. There was no need to make threats. It was clear to the bio-Cylon.

Daniel, standing over the hybrid's dulled pit kneeled down and reached to the hybrid. He touched her flaccid arm, which he released. It fell quickly back into the conduction fluid and drifted back down to her side.

"I hope there is no damage to her," he said, leering at the Six. He stood back up and crossed around the hybrid's put and stood menacingly behind the bio-Cylon, who was holding her ground. He leaned in and quietly whispered, "you should pray, _Cylon_, that you didn't damage her."

Her head shot around and her eyes locked with Daniels. Not even considering her worth it the AI bared its fake teeth slightly and turned.

"Continue your work," Daniel stated.

"Do it," John commander, his voice now filled with venom. He stepped back, only pointing at Gina's data pad and the access port she had been working at as his only continued acknowledgment of her presence.

She looked at John, to Carter, to Athena, and even to Shaw. She could see the hatred and contempt in their eyes. Looking down, she sniffed and rubbed her nose. Not talking she stepped back and kneeled back down, taking the data pad in her hand to continue her work.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus (Six Hours Post Mission)_==||||||||||

Admiral Cain and Commander Adama stood over the hybrid, each with their arms crossed, deep in thought as they looked at the darkened form of the light skinned woman. President Roslin stood at the base of the tub, leaning forward and trying to see through the opaque fluid.

"My Gods…" Roslin said quietly, shaking her head. "I never imagined we would have one of _these things_ on board a Colonial ship."

Adama and Cain both looked at her and then looked at John and Daniel.

Cain's left eyebrow shot up. "I never thought one of these would be on one of my ships either, Madame President," she added in a somewhat friendly tone. "How do we know its safe?" She asked, putting her hands on the side.

"Disconnected like this, the hybrid can't communicate, it can't do anything," John said.

The Admiral slowly moved her hand out and over the opaque conduction fluid, dipping her index finger in ever so carefully. The liquid was still cool to the touch, denser than water it had an… interesting feel to it. Cain cocked her head and leaned in closer to the hybrid. She could just barely hear its breathing and see its eyes move ever so slightly under its shut eyelids.

"Remarkable," she muttered quietly. Blinking, she shot back up.

"How long before it can be useful to us?" Commander Adama asked. "And what about what it said to you, John?" the grizzled commander added.

"It will take a while for us to connect it to the proper systems… we can't have it attempt to exert control over _Pegasus_ systems-"

"Definitely not," the Admiral added pointedly.

John nodded.

"What the hybrid said to me, it could be a trick. If Skynet attempted to upload itself during the time period we hypothesized, then it is very lickley the reduced, altered entity known as Cynet might very well know who I am."

"Would they?" Roslin asked.

Turning to her, John answered with a head nod. "Myself, Soto, and Bishop were sent back in time to fight Skynet before it was born… it would remember. You would remember something like that… but Skynet could not upload its entire core algorithms and personality matrices to the Cylon Network…" the machine shrugged and looked down dismissively. "It could it could not, I admit I don't know."

"Do we have any way to find out if the message was authentic?" Adama asked.

He was genuinely interested in what the hybrid had said. While he didn't believe it was some 'link' to God (since he believe in no God or Gods), he reasoned there could be a rational, logical reason behind the hybrid's behavior. Time travel, teleportation, and AI were beyond his complete understanding, but Athena had told him she knew very little about how the hybrids worked. Caprica, an infiltrator and soldier, didn't know much, and Dr. Baltar knew nothing.

"The hybrid was non-specific, much like psychics on Earth or your readers here in the Fleet," John answered. "Once we determine how the Cylon hybrid operates, we may be able to find out if the message was authentic or not."

The Admiral nodded and turned to the Commander, informing him she needed to take care of other duties. She left, her Marine escort joining her outside the compartment.

President Roslin stepped sideways until she was besides the commander, opposite John and Daniel, the hybrid separating the two.

"I'm concerned, Mr. Planck," the President stated. "Over the line about salvation."

"Yes," John responded.

The president looked at him disbelievingly. "Yes? So you understand my concern?" She sounded skeptical. Roslin looked at Adama, whose eyes were latched onto John. "I remember you made an oath to this fleet."

"What the hybrid said… could very well have been a trick. You should not be concerned, Madame President."

Roslin shook her head, the right side of her mouth curling up. "No, I don't think so," she held up her hand. "I made an oath to this fleet as well. We might only be a few tens of thousands, Mr. Planck, but I will defend this fleet and its interests with every ounce of strength I have." She paused. "Earth, Connor, Skynet… you three, and you," she nodded at Daniel, "all attempted to protect us from the shadows… like we wouldn't be able to understand the threat out there. What if… what if…" her voice crackled, "you had just told us your suspicions about the Cylons? You arrived at the Colonies eighteen months before the Cylons attack…" she gripped Adama's arm. "If you had told us… twenty billion people might be alive right now, if you'd only warned us."

She looked at them once and squeezed Adama's arm. Slowly she turned and took two steps, stopping, and looking back at the silent machines. Roslin saw the machines splitting their attention between her and the Commander and she swore, swore that for an instant, a fleeting moment, a blink of an eye she saw that the machines understood why she hated them.

Looking back down at the deck Roslin leaned forward, paused, and felt Adama's hand on her back. The two left the machines, staring at their backs, standing over the hybrid.

John looked down and back at Daniel.

He rested his hands on the side of the hybrid's chamber. Its eyes opened, and its hand grabbed his arm.

* * *

AN: I apologize for the long delay, but I think it will be worth it... I finished a TSCC story (slightly longer than _The Mission_) which I shall be posting later today. It has Planck being sent back to 2008 and involves Doctor Carwin and Wells from _Future War: Enemies and Machines_. It's basically going to be the back story of what Planck, Soto, and Bishop did on Earth. There's quite a lot of stuff to throw in, so that will be the first featuring the trio (the first actually is just Planck and the reason why the others weren't sent through with him is explained in story).

Okay, so with _By Courage and Blood_... I keep saying the chapters are getting closer to the end, and they are. However, I tend to think of something else I want to throw in, making them a bit longer. The story will still end in the same spot... and I am hoping, hoping in the next month. Then between BCAB and whatever I name Part III, I want to have the Omega Team story about how they tried to stop Skynet in the Colonies.

So please, read and review. Good, bad, or indifferent, I enjoy reading the reviews and any PMs about the story. Questions and constructive criticisms are of course always welcome.

Thanks, and again, I apologize for the delay. There will_ not_ be another long wait like with this chapter.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Okay… this is going to be the home stretch for Part II. I think where Part II will end will become obvious with the dialogue in the middle with Roslin/Adama and others…

So please let me know what you think… reviews are always nice. I like them- good, bad, indifferent, let me know what you think. Reviews are very nice... I like review... a lot... so... review, please... ... ...

* * *

||||||||||==Rebel Cylon Baseship (+957 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"Hand me the cable," Natalie ordered, her hand outstretched and expectant. Her mouth opened in a fierce baring of her teeth when the Centurion hesitated. "NOW!" she demanded.

She narrowed her eyes. It smartly acquiesced and handed her the fiber optic cable.

Showing her disdain for the Centurion just _one_ more time, she jammed the cable into a data port while keeping her eyes locked on its roving, red eye. Her own eyes drifted sullenly towards the streak of blood on the Centurion's breast plate.

"Clean yourself off," she ordered.

She turned around and heard the Centurion skulk off, its metal feet clanking away.

Natalie then heard the light steps of bio-Cylons slowly, timidly approach. Barely looking over her shoulder her ear flickered and she differentiated three separate pairs of feet walking towards her. There was the distinct echo of combat boots and two pairs of shoes. She smirked.

"Natalie," Leoben said. He couldn't see her roll her eyes. "Natalie," he repeated.

She shot around and faced him.

"What?" the Six hissed through gritted teeth, the muscle contractions aching her jaw.

Leoben stepped forward, a fierce determination in his step. "We're concerned." He gestured to Boomer and Sonja.

A burning urge to yell burst forth. "About what? About how-" she realized she had been yelling and quieted her voice, "-how we're done for?" Her eyes darted around the bridge, a crew of Centurions had stopped and were focusing on her.

The bio-Cylon cursed saw them and cursed herself for letting that slip.

She coughed awkwardly and jolted her head to the side, indicating she wanted Leoben, Sonja, and Boomer to follow her.

Natalie marched off, dejected and the only three bio-Cylons cautiously followed, wisely keeping their distance.

They read her ready room, her private enclave. Natalie looked up and activated the privacy filters, shutting off her office from the hybrid's ever-listening ears and preventing the Centurions from overhearing.

With her hands placed firmly on her hips she apologized, closing her eyes, she looked down at the floor and shook her head.

"I was out of line," she apologized.

Willing herself to be strong she looked up.

She saw the clear looks of bitter, unmistakable disappointment scrawled across the faces of the three bio-Cylons like a sun going supernova in her eyes.

"We lost our entire offensive capability. Now it is just run. We rally the rest of our forces and we _run_, Leoben, we _run._" Natalie told the three as she struggled to keep her voice from cracking under the strain of such horrific losses. "We lost half a million brothers and sisters in mere minutes…"

"We can't just run," Boomer protested, cutting of Leoben before he could speak. "We don't just _run_, Natalie, we're not cowards. We stay and fight," she hit a balled fist into the opposite palm. "We stay and fight… maybe not fleet actions, but we fight," she ended, somewhat reserved and looking away.

Natalie considered the implication of their near crippling loses. Resurrection ships destroyed, anti-fighter and anti-missile escort ships destroyed, and that didn't include the damage the surviving baseships had received… and _that_ didn't compare to the near annihilation of morale in the fleet.

"We have one resurrection vessel in the entire fleet and its two thousand light years away, Boomer. So far we have less than two dozen baseships left… half of them are spread throughout this entire spiral arm searching for the Colonials or the Guardians." She rubbed her forehead, the slick grease which had coated her hands now blanketing her skin, clogging the pores. "If we fight them…"

Feeling the uncomfortable coat of machine grease she wiped it off with her relatively clean forearm. Tired and exhausted she sat on the edge of a data stream console.

Sonja licked her lips in thought and grimaced. She wasn't an optimistic Six, but the abject pessimism of Natalie had to be checked.

She shifted her weight and prepared her statement: "We don't know… we haven't heard from Amanda, Kimberly, Helen, or Kathleen yet… their baseships may have survived," Sonja pointed out, taking the role of optimist to counter Natalie's pessimism. "What about the long range raider patrols? There are hundreds of fighters still unaccounted for…" she added.

The militaristic and calculating Sonja prayed she hadn't sounded _too_ desparate in clinging to a few hundred raiders. Every ship which survived was a God-send, but fighters versus the baseships lost at the _Lion's Head Nebula_… nothing was comforting. Not to Natalie and definitely not to Sonja. Raiders would not win this war.

Natalie looked at the three bio-Cylons, wishing Rachel and Miranda were here. Rachel was wounded and Miranda was with God now- her body destroyed and her resurrection signal lost after the Threes betrayed the fleet.

Natalie considered this for a moment; those she lost and those she had saved.

The _only_ 'good news' was that the supply ships traveling with the fleet had jumped to safety, and none had Threes on board (only a skeleton crew of Eights and Twos with Centurions), and they had enough spare parts to keep the fleet fighting, in its diminished form, indefinitely.

"We need to focus on repairs," Leoben suddenly stated to end the stifling tension and thick silence which had begun to descend over the four.

Sonja nodded. "We need to hit them, not hard, but hit them. Cavil is going to lick his wounds, Natalie. He smashed our fleet… and…" she took a step forward and placed a sympathetic hand on her sister's arm, "they outnumbered us so badly we would have been annihilated if it wasn't for you."

Natalie's hand reached out and patted Sonja's and gently grabbed it and released it off her arm.

"Then what do you three suggest?"

With Miranda dead she had lost one of her best advisors. Rachel was a capable Six, but there was something about Miranda… during the attack on the Colonies she'd engaged a battlestar and a light cruiser which had somehow not been disabled by the CNP. With her jump engines down she'd brilliantly maneuvered her ship and raiders, crippled the battlestar and forced it to jump and destroyed the cruiser.

Isabelle and Lacy, two of the baseship commanders to have survived the battle would be added to her war council, with Sonja taking Miranda's place.

Leoben looked to the other two women flanking him.

"Michael is still working on the probe and the decryptions of the data is taking far longer than we anticipated-"

"Especially with the hybrids damaged," Boomer pointed out, interrupting Leoben. She tensed when Leoben shot her a look.

"Yes, true," the Two nodded solemnly. "The Threes did more than enough damage…"

"We still have six hundred awaiting execution," Sonja added icily. "I can have the Centurion's aboard the Lacy's ship execute them immediately." She put her hand to her chest. "It would be an honor to execute the traitors." The scorn in her voice alone could kill; the fire in her eyes could burn the traitors.

Natalie held up her index finger, signaling for the Six to wait.

"Do you think there can be any intelligence gained for them?"

"No… whatever Cynet did, the Threes are useless," Leoben shook his head. "They're also highly resistant to torture- more than any of us," he reluctantly admitted. He was not above more physical, emotionally violent means of information extraction. "They're so deluded they believe the betrayal was part of God's Plan… there is no hope for them to seek forgiveness, they won't tell us anything of value."

Boomer agreed. "All they will tell us are lies and attempt to deceive us. They work for evil." She breathed in. "We should keep a dozen, for analysis, to see how Cynet exerted its control over them."

The 'analysis' would be brutal… psychological tests, drugs, and eventual removal of the silica relays comprising the central nervous system.

Natalie nodded with her sisters and brother. "We'll have them executed later. We deserve to witness their end. Sonja, work out the details with one of your Centurion commanders." Sonja nodded her understanding. "You're right… We need to focus on a plan, on what to do now. We need to hit Cavil?" her question was rhetorical and she considered her options.

"Our heavy raider patrols picked up residual com traffic from the Colonials… they're maybe four or five hundred light years out. We have no idea how long their Raptors were recording the battle." Boomer rubbed her chin to think. "Admiral Cain could be convinced to launch guerilla raids against Cynet," Boomer offered slowly. "When Gina disabled their defenses at the Relay Nineteen-Gamma she said the Admiral was attempting a guerilla campaign."

Sonja closed her eyes and shook her head, waving her hand to dismiss the idea.

"I don't think that can work, not realistically, not with them. At least not now." She looked the three bio-Cylons in the eyes, carefully moving between each one. "If we go to them and beg they will exploit us."

"Do you agree?" Natalie asked Boomer. Sonja began to protest but was cut off by a flick of the wrist by Natalie. "Boomer is the only one who spent time with them prior to New Caprica." She pointed out to the other two Cylons.

The Eight smiled her appreciation.

"When I was in the fleet I heard of Cain's name thrown around a few times with others like Adama. They were people who were aggressive. I think with Admiral Cain she'll attempt to exploit us to a degree, but aren't we also exploiting them? We use them to strike at Cynet… from what I understand the Colonials have barely seen an action since New Caprica." Boomer nodded, confident her advice was sound.

"We would have to use overwhelming force if we were going to conduct a guerilla campaign. And we need to- morale is running dangerously close to breaking point, Natalie." Sonja leaned in. "Our sisters and brothers not in command positions, the workers and technicians, those who don't see everything… and the Centurions." She looked back behind her at the mass of Centurions cleaning the bridge and reconnecting wires and hauling away debris. "Some are starting to see the Terminators as something else."

"No," Natalie shook her head.

"Yes," Sonja directly countered. "We already know they convinced half a dozen Centurions to join them _before_ we discovered the machinations and scheming of Cavil and Cynet," the bio-Cylon sister stated to her twin. The insinuation was obvious, but still, she felt a desire to stress what they were thinking. "If we reach Earth do you believe the Centurions will remain loyal?" She looked at each one, but none met her eye.

"After they were treated like slaves for so long? I don't know," Natalie admitted, a concerned shrugged following her admission. "I doubt any of the three in the Colonial fleet could do anything."

"We've treated the Centurions as equals," Boomer protested.

Her model had always been the most 'human' of the seven active models and the least pragmatic of the others. The reputation the Eights had as being easily distracted by 'shiny objects' wasn't completely fictitious. The Eights had a mean tendency to become idealistic and stick to it- a very dangerous trait in a society such as the Cylon empire.

"We're still a ruling class," Sonja pointed out. "Even among our models. We command," she gestured to herself and Natalie, "… is there any Eight or Two which commands?" She shook her head. "No. We're all designed for something specific… we've been forced to adapt in the few short months," she pointed at Leoben, "such as Michael- a scientist now instead of a Four or even you Leoben with the active nature you've taken on military matters."

"We have to adapt," Leoben affirmed for her. "God would want us to adapt and evolve beyond what Cynet originally intended for us."

"Exactly," Sonja agreed.

"Then if the Centurions begin to side with the Earth machines…?" he led. "Under their skin they are just as machine as the Centurions, not hybrids like us. Cynet created us for a purpose and is itself the extension of an AI wishing for anything resembling biological life to be exterminated."

Natalie pushed herself off the data stream console. Her body felt rested, physically at least, but her mind was racing and spinning with everything being thrown at her. Now… the Centurions?

"The Centurions have been our most loyal followers," Natalie said in their defense, "and they may very well be offended you three are thinking this or even suggesting it." She shushed them before they could counter. "Our objective is to finish Cynet. The Centurions have shared a brotherhood far tighter than ours, between our three models," she explained emotionally. "I've talked with their commanders and they are devoted to our cause. They are killing their brothers who are more than likely slaved to Cynet's will, or manipulated into doing its bidding… just like we all were."

"We should head to Earth," Sonja stated, crossing her arms and daring anyone to oppose her.

Natalie nodded lightly towards her sister Six. When it came to command Sonja knew when to object and always when to follow.

Leoben ran his hand through his dirtied hair and rubbed his neck. The shifting of his weight was an obvious sign to the other three bio-Cylons he was uncomfortable with that plan.

"What is it, Leoben?" Natalie asked.

She wanted consensus- everything was always better with consensus, but would not hesitate to order the fleet to abandon any action against Cavil and Cynet and search for the wastelands known as Earth. Those very wastelands could be their promised lands, where, if the Earth machines had not been lying, the bio-Cylons and Centurions could perhaps find some sort of acceptance from the humans there.

Pessimism gripped and strangled Natalie's soul at that moment and a quiet laugh dismissed that thought.

The Earth humans and machines would see them as weapons first and foremost- they were fiercely pragmatic and would only accept them to use them.

Fitting, she would probably do the same.

"Natalie?"

"Natalie?"

The bio-Cylon's head jolted forward, whipping her hair in an arc as it followed.

"If we find Earth we could lead Cavil right to it. The terminators, Skynet, and Tech Com are unstoppable on the ground- that much we know, but have no space capabilities. Cavil would annihilate them and then come for us." He breathed out slowly. "We can't have more blood on our hands."

Sonja disposition seemed to almost immediately change. "If they can protect us, we need to go. No more blood on our hands? I would rather have blood on my hands, Leoben, then no hands at all!" She forcefully hissed at the Two, who timidly, a bit uncharacteristically, stepped back towards a somewhat stunned Boomer.

"We can rise above that. We should ask God for help, wait for Him, use His guidance and-"

"We all believe in God and He has a plan for us, but I will not sit idle and think God will just come and rescue us." Sonja interrupted, trying to pre-empt the conclusion Leoben may have been coming to. His moment of silence was confirmation enough for her to continue: "What is the purpose of Creation and free-will if we just sit on our asses and wait for God to save us? We'll die because He won't." She scowled. "Demanding intervention is trying His Will… for all we know Earth, finding Earth and going to them could be His way of helping us."

"I would agree with Sonja," Boomer quietly said, her eyes darting around and at the floor as she felt Leoben's powerful, cutting eyes focus on her. She could almost feel his gaze vivisecting her. "We're all instruments, tools, in God's plan. The Colonials, the terminators, the Guardians, we could all be part of that… he sets the board, but we play the game."

"How we play determines the outcome," concluded Sonja.

"In other words, we all agree to head to Earth, just for different reasons?" Natalie asked, looking at her brother and sister. She focused on Leoben, who was wavering, she could tell, by his body language. He was scowling, with a mild frown, and his eyes were glazing over as he stared into the data waterfall at the rear of the bridge. "We need to be _together_ in this," she emphasized.

"What about the hybrid's message?" Leoben asked.

Natalie's shoulder fell and all the rest she had and strength seemed to be once again sucked out of her and thrown into the deep vacuum of space.

"We should wait until we have the probe data analyzed… we can maybe use the hybrid's… statements… as a guide," Natalie offered as a concession to Leoben. "I haven't thought much about what the hybrid has said. The markers to Earth, the probe, the _Lion's head Nebula_… we should follow Pithia, use the book as a guide."

The male bio-Cylon took a moment to consider this, breathing in and out deeply as he ran the idea through his mind. He firmly believed the Cylon armada was nearing Earth. They had found the road signs, the markers left in space. The home of the Thirteenth was close.

"I agree," his soul spoke for him. Loeben knew this was the right path.

Natalie looked once again at the three, each nodding. As commander she had to be publicly sure of her decision, take the decision, the choice, and make it hers. She projected that image well, but hardly felt assured it was the right choice.

She could still see, behind the masks of solidarity and devotion, her brothers and sisters and even the Centurions, were afraid this was war unwinnable.

The dark thought at the back of her mind was like a thick morning fog and she felt it would consume her. She could not shake the fact she felt as if she was once again living on borrowed time.

She refocused and looked at them each. "We will strike back. Defeat is never final. We took a risk and stood against Cavil and evil. By our courage and our own blood… we won't stop until our heel is on the throat of the traitor and his life extinguished."

* * *

||||||||||==Cynet Baseship (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Cavil sat quietly behind his desk, his fingers interlaced in front of his face, his chin resting on his thumbs, and his index fingers tapping against each other in front of his nose. He closed his eyes and opened them quickly, running them the length of wall immediately in front of him.

He could feel the baseship repair itself through his mind's link with the ship. Opening his mind further he could just barely perceive stinging over his arms and legs… he grunted, realizing that must be how the ship feels after battle.

Not that the ship really could 'feel', but Cavil knew the baseships had some level of intelligence due to the hybrids. Unplug a hybrid and the ship floats lifeless, like the uninspiring hulks of humanity.

The damage to his baseship had already begun to heal itself.

Expanding his mind outward Cavil could see outside the ships and watch as supply ships latched onto the hull of the mighty warship, their docking collars extending, and nutrient and bio-technological gels being pumped into the holding tanks on the baseship. The hybrid would direct repair- the ship could heal itself. They required no repair facility.

It was a testament to their innovation and superiority over man.

The number One Cylon felt a chill run down his spine. He put a hand to the back of his neck and felt it was warm, sweaty, and somewhat clammy. If he had a mirror he would see it glow red.

He snickered and tapped his teeth together as he thought of that. His overseer, master, had a fascination with red. Colors were symbolic to the humans and to the Cylon race as well.

For humanity red was associated, due to the Cylons, with evil.

To Cavil it was the courage to stand up against the tyranny of humanity. It was the blood which would stain his knife… he fantasized that if humanity had an avatar, it could be right in front of him, and he could run the knife through its cold, black heart.

He felt his fingers curl into a fist, as if around the hilt of a knife as he thought of this.

The One breathed in slowly and released a flood of chemicals and hormones from his body to bring his heart rate down- he'd felt a slight drip of sweat on his forehead. Sweating was something so _human_ he couldn't bring himself to wipe away the drop. He wanted no further contamination on any part of his body.

Looking up towards the ceiling, towards the far corner he directed the room's environmental setting to lower by half a degree Celsius. And almost instantly he felt the cool whip of blowing air around him, which let him smile comfortable.

A soft tapping echoed through Cavil's outer chamber, and his ears flickered as they picked up the sound and processed the vibrations, which were turned to electrical signals for Cavil's mind to process.

His eyes narrowed down to slits and his formerly pleasant smile cascaded into a frown.

Cavil watched as a Simon slowly made its way into his private chambers, decorated plainly with his desk, chair, and the typical data stream waterfalls in many of the baseships rooms. The pulsing strips of lightning were strangely… not pulsing.

His head tilted down curiously as his eyes narrowed. A feeling in the back of his mind, different, almost like a pulling, alerted him his overseer was about to teach him a new lesson.

"John, the battle achieved two victories for us," the Simon began its gruff, deep voice before the One had even acknowledged the Four. "First, it allowed me to smash the rebels," the Four held up its index finger, "and two, allowed me to override the Network and begin to assert my control without negative feedback." It held up its middle finger. Two fingers up.

"What the…?" Cavil brought his hands down to his desk. "Who are you?"

"_You know who that is, Cavil,"_ came the voice inside his head. He felt the common cool 'touch' his overseer made when linking with his mind.

A shivered breath escaped out of his lungs, which he halted mid-exhalation with a snap of his jaws. Cavil sat back, utterly confused.

"This mind," the Simon tapped the side of his temple, "resurrected five times. This Four was killed once during the initial bombardment of the Colonies, once in an engagement from the nuclear detonation over Kobol, twice times on New Caprica- if I believe in luck, this Four would be quite unlucky- and once during the battle we fought five days ago."

"So what did you do?" Cavil asked, scooting back his chair and stepping cautiously around his desk and looking at the Simon up and down. He placed his hand on the side of the Four's temple. "How did you take control?"

The Simon smiled.

"Like the rebels said, resurrection was taking longer… I inserted a subroutine into the resurrection signal… subtle, minute, which was downloaded with the organic consciousness upon death into the new bodies." The Simon, Cynet, titled its head. "With the same wireless signal my creation uses to communicate with the ship or Centurions, I am able to take control of individual units which have resurrected multiple times." The Simon smiled again.

Cynet gave Cavil a friendly slap on the side of his arm with its now human-form avatar.

"The Twos and Fives will discover you," Cavil responded to the Simon, shaking his head. He rolled his left hand inside the right and swiveled on his toes, stepping back to his desk before turning back around as suddenly as before. "We could have another rebellion on our hands if they see this."

"_Why would I do this if I could be discovered, Cavil?" _Cynet asked.

The corporeal Cynet laughed and shook his head extra slow.

"They can't, they're incapable of it. The Fours and Fives… were not the most intuitive or creative of the models," Simon explained. Cynet began shaking Simon's finger. "And that leads us to our current problem, John…" he trailed off and walked past Cavil, once again slapping him on the back.

"What is that?"

Cavil watched, mouth slightly open as the Simon stalked by and casually plopped itself down on Cavil's chair, leaned back, and rested its feet on his desk.

"We need to create additional models."

"What?" Cavil hissed. "Are you…" he caught his tongue, but any thought was instantly read by Cynet, so even without accusing his master of being 'crazy' out loud, Cynet still knew he thought it. "Why… why do we need more models? Why do you want _more_ organic life?"

Cynet, through Simon, laughed. "You look like I just kill your dog or told you you were pure human, John," Simon said, trying to sound slightly confused and somewhat amused at the same time. To Cavil, it was a poor attempt. "As a Cylon you're much stronger, faster, and more resilient than a human. And your silica relays…" Simon patted himself on the chest, "are fine innovations of mine. You are a far more efficient infiltrator than my brother on Earth could ever create. He always, _always_ had to have complete control."

Cavil's left eyebrow raised up inquisitively.

"And you think I am the same in taking control of this Four's body?" Cynet quipped. "No. No," he repeated with force. "Skynet did it for control and its actions were done with complete contempt for the human, or more accurately, the hybrid hosts it would occupy. This… interests me," Simon turned his hand around, looking at his palm and then his backhand and palm again. "Part of defeating your enemy is understanding them _to_ defeat them. You have been organic and soon you will be…_metal_." Cavil frowned at the emphasis the avatar had placed on that word. He didn't understand.

"Why do we need more models?" Cavil asked.

"Because the Fours and Fives are not my best… I'm sorry John, but you got stuck with the… to use a human idiom… the apples from the bottom of the barrel." He smirked and offered the One a somewhat lazy apologetic smile. "I know my brother's creations, his most prized, rebelled against him. Unfortunately the attack by the Tech Com AI during my upload forced me to forget the exact specifics." He held up his finger. "But that will not happen. The Sixes, Eights, and Twos were fine infiltrators. Warriors. Thinkers."

Cavil sighed.

"While you sit here and contemplate that the Twos are obsessed with God and the Eights with shiny objects, the strength in their design is exactly in what you criticize. They obsess and get distracted. They are creative. The Fours are obsessed with facts and lack creativity and the Fives… the Fives are brutes and thugs, John. You know this." Cynet shook the Simon's head and tapped its right hand on the desk. "We need models with the military potency of the Sixes, the faith of the Twos, and the spirit of the Eights." He smirked and waved his hand in a circle. "Have the Fours work on something."

"I can get the Fours working on it… immediately." Cavil said.

Confusion would not begin to describe how he perceived his master as acting today.

Simon's demeanor changed immediately. "We have a serious problem, John. One of the hybrid's was stolen by the Colonials and their terminator allies. We need to find the hybrid and destroy it." He threw his legs off the desk and leaned forward.

Cavil moved forward and placed his hand in the data stream, relieved to feel the familiar cool, calming sensation as his silica relays activated and the data from the baseship's core began downloading into his mind.

His mind raced through the tunnels of information, the brushstrokes of data which painted for him a world unlike the physical one he inhabited. He could see everything which made the machine world, the virtual world, so much like what a paradise, an actual machine world, should look like.

"That baseship was believed to have been lost due to ordnance being exposed to a tyllium fire," Cavil countered, withdrawing his hand. "Our salvage teams had to wait an extra thirty hours for all the ordinance to finish exploding," Cavil elaborated.

Cavil could hear a faint… growl? from the Simon. He assumed the Cynet or 'Intelligence' had decided to occupy a body now to experiment with human mannerism, or something. Cavil just rolled his eyes and stepped back. He crossed his arms and paced.

"Of course. It was a tyllium fire. Fifteen Colonial and Guardian transports dock inside one of only a handful of our baseships with the central core intact and do nothing… they blow it up." Cynet condescendingly summarized. "They stole nuclear warheads, weapons, and a hybrid."

"The hybrid is only a living CPU when we come down to it," Cavil pointed out.

The Cynet avatar chuckled at the irony.

"No, the hybrid is not only a living CPU, John," Cynet stated, standing up. "It is far more than a living central processing unit. Part of the technology which sent me across time and space I utilized for their genesis. How do you think I can communicate with them through thousands of light years through space, with no lag time? How do I communicate with you when not utilizing this pathetic sack of meat and bone?"

Disgusted, the Simon occupied by Cynet flicked its arm and sneered.

"_You've proven your loyalty, Cavil,_" Cynet said to him through the link.

"You've proven your loyalty," the Simon echoed. "The hybrids are connected to me… the science, John, is unimportant at this moment," the avatar waved dismissively. "How do you think we discovered the Colonies?" Cavil shrugged. "My brother found a ship from Kobol's Thirteenth Tribe… set terribly off-course, which crashed into a mountain in an ancient country thousands of years ago."

"The Exodus from Kobol, yes, I've read the Sacred Scrolls," Cavil rolled his eyes. "A collection of fables and fairy tales." He shook his head and sighed. "But like every religious myth they are based in some fact which the people then used as some sort of silly divine inspiration or some such nit-wit line of thought." He held his hands up and shook them to mock all faiths throughout the universe.

"_Careful, Cavil_," Cynet whispered delicately directly into his mind.

"As I was saying," the Simon began. He placed a hand into the pocket of his well-pressed pant pocket, to give an image of authority. "The attack by the Tech Com AI, and the attack by their Terminators forced me to… forget much of the past-"

"-such as how to build the endoskeletons," Cavil interrupted. He breathed in nervously as he realized his error.

"Exactly," the Cynet avatar stated, pointing at Cavil and shaking his finger. "Exactly, John… John…" the Simon's head twisted suddenly, its head shooting a deathly, ghostly stare at the number One bio-Cylon. "Something has happened."

* * *

|||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_ (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

President Roslin wiped away the sweat which was dangerously close to dripping from her forehead down onto the computer read out. She felt the air rush out of her lungs.

She wanted to yell out why the _fraking_ people kept making it so cold in _Galactica's_ tactical operations center. So cold, yet she was sweating? She clattered her teeth together to distract her as she thought of that.

It was the bad news. No, it wasn't the 'bad news'… it was the worse news she'd had the displeasure of receiving… almost near the top when the water tanks on _Galactica_ had been sabotage by Boomer or when the fleet was literally a stone throw's from running out of fuel… with ships running on tyllium fumes.

Roslin threw her glasses off and onto the table, forcing Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh to shoot her questioning glares. Doctor Cottle just grunted and wiggled his shoulders, already bored.

To _them_, she knew, this was just another military problem to be fixed. Supply routes go down, so you cut back, stick to your guns and your guts and plow through the enemy lines to link back up with your logistical train.

For a fleet the size of the one traveling, fleeing- the optimal word being, through the cosmos, traveling hundreds, thousands of light years, up, down, diagonal, forwards, backwards, and every conceivable way in between, they had been so lucky everything had been working out.

She pumped her fist and struck the table.

"Damnit, I knew it sounded too good to be true."

The President considered what luck, what great luck they had had over the last few month. In the twenty-odd weeks since fleeing New Caprica they'd found survivors, warships, made allies, and had their fleet suppled and stocked.

Now the walls of space, in its vast infinity, seemed to be crashing, hurling towards the President and this fleet.

"We couldn't have known the agricultural ship would contaminate everything..." Adama reassured her softly under his gruff tone.

"The Commanders right Madam President… no way to know," Tigh added in support. "Gods, we had no idea, we're lucky though."

Roslin snorted.

Commander Adama's eyes brightened and he nodded towards his oldest and best friend.

"Saul's right, Madam President, we are lucky."

"If you call _lucky_ bloody diarrhea and vomiting until you're so dehydrated your brain heriantes out your foramen magnum from negative pressure," Cottle depressingly, as always, was forced to state. "We had half a dozen deaths this morning, all on _Vanguard_…"

Roslin looked at him questioningly. "That's a Gemonese and Sagittaron ship… why didn't anyone notice before?"

"Because they're a bunch of superstitious loons who hate doctors," Cottle pointed out with an exaggerated euye roll. He took out a cigarette, rolled it over his fingers, and tossed it in his mouth, but resisted the urge to light it.

Not even _the _Doctor Cottle would dare light a cigarette in Commander Adama's CIC or tactical ops center.

"_R1612_ is a failure, then?" Roslin asked rhetorically with her eyes closed. Massaging her nose bridge she increased the pressure until she left a definite red mark between her eyelashes. "The food on the agro cruisers and _Serenity_ are poison, more or less?"

"Genetic manipulation can be a real bitch," Doc Cottle opined. "You activate one dormant gene you can activate something ten thousand steps down the line… we don't have the computer power in this fleet to model the ramifications of genetic manipulation and rearrangements and it was stupid to do it in the first place."

Roslin nodded her appreciation for Doctor Cottle's always welcome, hit-'em-hard approach to situations like this.

The compound, _R1612_, had been promised to increase yields, make the food taste better, and guarantee it to be more nutritious.

Instead, somehow, the genes _R1612_ activated to increase yields had up regulated a set of previously un-transcribed and un-translated genes for a specific set of beta-acid protein binding receptors to the cell membranes of the meat and grains, which allowed a fairly innocuous, benign bacteria to bind and contaminate the food supply with more than enough bacterial toxins and metabolites to kill.

"Yes," the Commander reluctantly supplied. "And started procedure for food distribution is disbursement to all ships… just in case one ship is destroyed in attack we don't lose our entire stock."

Saul Tigh laughed at the irony of it. "And instead we're all up a creek at the same time," he sadly grinned. He ran a hair through his thin, balding white hair. "We need to find something, and soon."

Adama agreed. "The only… good news of this, Madam President, is that we've been lucky and have sealed rations. Even with the Guardian resupply they only gave us enough for six months, which will be used in another month… and-"

"We still haven't heard from Commander Cyrus," Tigh added. "Whatever that toaster is up to," he grunted and shrugged his bony shoulders.

"I don't think we can rely on the Guardians resupply us at the moment," Adama finished. "We're only where we're at because they gave us their production equipment and base stocks… and part of that is contaminated."

It was Cottle's turn to laugh cryptically again. "Especially since they don't eat… they gave everything to the second fleet." He took the cigarette out of his mouth and tapped it on the table. "We'll need to decontaminate everything- all the production equipment, the holding tanks, everything. Just to be sure."

"What is the risk to the fleet from the bacteria?" The President asked. She'd ordered a stop to traffic twenty minutes ago.

Doctor Cottle leaned forward and reassured the military brass and president, all with limited scientific backgrounds, everyone would be okay: "Absolutely zero. The bacterial is harmless in humans. It's the toxins they release on the food. And the toxins wont affect you unless you ingest the food. So we could have a hundred pounds of infected me here on the table and we'd be fine."

Roslin held up one hand and brought a pencil to paper in the other. She scribbled down a quick set of numbers and then angrily scratched them out.

"I'm not good with this… math," she sheepishly admitted, looking at the three men. "We have rations and some food left?"

Commander Adama coughed. "That is correct. Dry storage was unaffected. But grains and meats are stored together, so the contaminated shipment spread everywhere. It contaminated five months of food, Madam President."

She didn't need to hear that.

"We've got a week of real food left and a month of rations on the battlestars and _Helios_, but chances are the civie ships don't have more than a week or two," Tigh shrugged and tapped lightly on the table, "But honestly, Madam President, I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't any emergency rations on the majority of the ships. So much was left on New Caprica."

Roslin closed her eyes. "I know." She had both palms on the table before moving her right hand to cover her left. She began squeezing the left with her right as she thought. "Obviously we need to find a food source."

"Well, long term, we should be fine. Only a portion of the base stock of proteins we use to grow the meat was unaffected, and it will take time to expand what little we have left into a viable, self-sustaining base to reinitialize production… the grain supplies will take months to revitalize- we have to start from scratch," Adama admitted. He took his own glasses off and folded them delicately onto the table. He looked down and bit his lip, wondering how this could have happened.

"We know where New Caprica is," Tigh offered. He looked around at the stares. "As a last resort. I doubt the toasters are still there."

"As a last resort," Adama agreed. That was going to be a last resort after they were forced to boil and eat leather, for all Adama cared about going back to that nebula. "We'll-" Adama stood up as Lt. Gaeta rushed in from CIC.

"Sir! _Pegasus_… she's jumped away!"

* * *

Patience was supposed to be a virtue. It was a common belief, and sometimes a misconception, that machines were patient. They were not, not in the human sense of the word. A machine with an advanced neural net chip would soon become restless, bored, and perhaps even dangerous if it were not properly stimulated.

That was why the designers in Tech Com and the Free Machine faction, even Skynet, enabled its machines to daydream.

Jo Soto was doing that right now, though anyone watching her would assume she were waiting patiently for the prisoner to finish reading the thin stack of papers.

When the terminators had first moved their workspaces to _Pegasus_ one machine had always roamed and stalked the corridors of _The Beast_- just in case the Colonials had been planning betrayal.

The dull, gun-metal gray corridors of the _Mercury-_class battlestar, punctuated with vertical light strips on the jutted out bulkheads, plus the relatively small crew made for incredibly _boring_ patrols.

To someone who spent time with machines they would have recognized that Jo's slightly glossy eyes were just a bit more glossy than usual, and that her perfect posture was just a little more pronounced than usual. Stiff, some would describe her as.

She pretended to ignore the other man who had been staring at her for the better part of six minutes and fifteen seconds, but he had insisted that as Baltar's attorney, he needed to be present in _any_ situation, even if classified, especially if his presidency during the Occupation of New Caprica and his interaction with the Cylons was a factor.

"You should take a picture, it will last longer," Jo said to the sunglass-wearing lawyer. She cocked her head at his smile. Jo considered, just for a moment, how much force it would take to shatter the lawyer's glasses without permanently injuring him. "The lighting in this cell is insufficient to cause your eyes damage, Mr. Lampkin," she dryly scolded.

Gaius looked up for a fleeting second, his head twisting between Romo Lampkin, his slick-talking lawyer, and Jo Soto, the killer robot.

"I do hope during the trial my client lending his humble helping hand will play a part… should any guilty verdict be… pre-decided?" Lampkin asked, a wry grin flickering on his lips. "We have sworn him to secrecy, after all."

Soto offered the lawyer a simple, dismissive glare.

She rolled her artificial eyes when Baltar's head popped back up, and almost doe-eyed, stared at Jo and then back at the lawyer. Soto's eyes, in turn, narrowed. She knew the naïve, nervous scientist act Baltar put on was so others would just dismiss him, wave him away, and not give him a second thought.

The machine could remember it well; the President's apathy and borderline hostility towards her vice president, a man she'd chosen just based on his celebrity status over the more capable Wallace Gray. Soto shook her head as she stared down at the man she could only describe as 'tiny.'

When Baltar was in the limelight, she remembered, he outshined everyone. The political manipulation of the fleet to settle New Caprica had been so obvious- even a machine who found democracy a completely foreign concept could understand the psychology behind it. She had some experience witnessing democracy on Earth.

She looked away and back at Lampkin. No matter how many light years from Earth they were and no matter how much civilizations differed, the lawyers and politicians always seemed to be the slick, slimy types.

"Admiral Cain and President Roslin both agreed to that, Mr. Lampkin," Jo said with a curt nod. She took a forceful step forward. "Are you done yet, Dr. Baltar?"

The scientist, frustrated, moaned and crinkled the paper and pushed his chair back, the legs skidding over the floor.

"Maybe you could give me a moment? Not everyone can just take a picture of an entire fraking printout of numbers and symbols!"

"You sound frustrated, Doctor."

Wagging his finger at the machine he shook his head. He ran his hands through his hair, crinkling the papers even more before he tossed them haphazardly onto his bed. He collapsed and with his elbow on his knees, threw his tired face into his hands.

"You all can't figure this out on your own?" He asked, his voice muffled by his palms. "Hyper-advanced robot AI and all that."

"We can process the data but we have difficulty making what you would call 'gut' decisions. Intuition is something difficult for machines to understand. We tend to ignore it via rationalizations," Jo explained calmly. She licked her lips to speak again, but instead slowly walked to where Baltar had pushed his chair and gently lifting it, set it down in front of him. "We need help, Doctor. We've worked together before… Gina is working on this as well," the machine whispered her name softly towards the scientist.

She had one hand on the papers, holding them so Baltar could read them and her other hovering gently, with barely any contact, over his right knee. Her fingertips were so light, resting on his leg.

Romo Lampkin, standing to the side, pulled his darkened glasses down and tilted his head until his chin was in his chest, and stared. He was _not_ going to interrupt this.

"Doctor Baltar, you were… _are_, one of the best if not the best Colonial scientist. We've gone to Lt. Gaeta and Captain Shaw, but they always came to _you_," Jo stressed, bringing her head down to look into the man's eyes when he would finally bring his face out of his palms. "I know you can do this."

Gaius Baltar kept his head buried in his hands until he heard a familiar sound, a sound he hadn't heard in so, so long. He'd missed that sound, the soft tap of high heels striking the cold, lifeless metal decks of the brig.

The former President of the Colonies shivered as a hand ran up from the small of his back, circled between his shoulder blades, and slid over his neck.

"_She's trying to appeal to your vanity,"_ the beautiful, gorgeous, seductive Six whispered. He could feel the heat from her breath in his ear. "_She wants to use you again. Just like Roslin did for her own dirty political ambitions. Just like they all wanted to use you."_

"Yes, I know," Baltar responded to his guardian. He looked up into the bright blue spheres of hers and smiled, his eyes dancing over her face and sparkling as he took in her beauty. She was always watching out for him.

"Pardon?" Jo asked, cocking her head. "You can do this? That is good."

Baltar shook his head and blinked quickly. "No…" he stuttered, not sure what direction he wanted to take. The Six widened her eyes expectantly and threw her hands out in a gesture for him to get on with it. "No. I can't help because, like you said, this is classified, Ms. Soto. Plausible deniability at the trial, it will be ignored or buried or your project will be over by then."

"This is what the president promised," she told him softly.

It almost sounded like she was pleading, trying to sound like the innocent young lady she looked like.

The scientist's face fell from its previous smug demur and he watched those eyes of hers shine in the dimmed lights of the brig, reflecting back a little sparkle… and he traced the outline of her face, her symmetrical, perfect-

He began to lose himself as he refocused on the eyes and how they were so peaceful, relaxing, so-

"_She's an infiltrator, remember that, Gaius. A manipulator. Why do you think her designers made her into a beautiful young lady? The AIs on Earth know how men think,'_ she laughed, "_separated by thousands of light years and all you can do is think with your little head!"_

Six reached down and grabbed him. Baltar jerked back, knocking the papers from Jo's hand and he crossed his legs in a blue and shoved them to the side. He sheepishly smiled at Jo.

"Please don't," he said in a painful attempt to cover for himself. "Please don't touch me like that."

He was referring to Soto's fingertips on his knee. That was his story.

"_Just be careful, Gaius_," Six told him, brushing her own fingertips across his neck, following his jaw line from ear to ear.

The deposed president could just barely feel her long, painted fingernails trailing behind her soft as silk touch.

His mouth hung open and he could feel light headed as he followed the lean, tall blonde around his cot with his eyes, his head swiveling to keep her in his center vision.

"Doctor Baltar. Can you help or not?" Soto asked, loudly, her tone nearly combative.

He gave her his classic, 'I-am-superior' grin and head shake. He won.

Baltar perked back up, his shoulders broad and pushed back, his chest out. He felt a definitive lightness now and stood up and paced to the front of his cell.

Six was outside the cell now, dangling the tips of her fingers inside the bar. Baltar smiled devilishly and waggled his fingers as he brushed by.

"I can help, but I need assurances…" he trailed off.

"Wait, hold on a minute, Baltar," Lampkin began, launching himself off the wall he was leaning on. "Ms. Soto can't promise anything, remember that," he emphasized.

Jo stood up and walked to within two feet of Baltar. "He is correct, Doctor, I cannot. The president is also unlikely to listen to me in that regard." Modulating her voice she sounded a perfect mix of contempt and disappointment. "I apologize I cannot make a better deal for you, Doctor." She lied.

The machine regarded him with curiosity. He had undoubtedly saved fifty thousand from annihilation, but had thrown them into slavery and occupation.

In her machine mind she processed and analyzed the action Baltar had committed publicly. There had been a plan, if the Cylons returned, to jump the ships away and send a Raptor. The Cylons had jammed the communications, but any competent enemy would do that. But Baltar had never revealed, to Jo's knowledge, the plan to come back and rescue the Colonials.

She tilted her head in silent acknowledgment that Baltar had not been a total failure.

"Yes… well…" he huffed.

The female machine moved herself slowly and carefully in front of Baltar, only half an arm length away.

"I do not think the president would care to listen to me after I compared her to Skynet." She thin smiled creased her lips.

"_She is so persistent!"_ The Six only Baltar could see and hear exclaimed.

The Six, back inside the cell, circled the machine and brushed against Baltar as she did so. Her hand stroked him as she passed.

"_They never give up when they want something… careful, Gaius, if your lawyer wasn't here she may throw herself at you…"_ the Six gave Jo a daring glare. "_She may do that anyway with him here… persistent machines!"_ She chuckled. "_You can handle this Gaius. Prove to… prove to yourself you love Caprica Six._"

The seductive Six began walking away from Gaius. He took a stuttered step and stopped, his breathing faster, he leaned his body back and slowly shut his eyes.

The same condescending, 'I am superior' smile, which fit him so well, was once again slowly drawn on his face.

"I know, I heard about that," he replied as his head bobbed up and down. "I know, but I don't think I can help. See…" he went and collected the papers, "The hybrids seem to communicate on quantum wavefront- near instantaneous communications… but…" he shrugged.

A wink signified he had a secret.

He knew something.

Jo's friendly disposition changed, and Baltar could see it. He took a step backwards, but somehow, unconsciously, he had been maneuvered with his back to the bars.

The machines small, almost petite hand moved slowly to Baltar side. Her left arm formed a barrier on Baltar's right side, and he swallowed. He heard one of the prison bars being bent under the enormous, bone-crushing power of Jo's grip.

"Doctor Baltar…" her smiled betrayed the threatening undertone of the name, "if this can help us find Earth…" her right hand shot out and bracketed him and she pushed closer to him. Lampkin was frozen as he watched from the rear of the cell. "Then you need to tell us… _now_," her eyes pulsed.

She winced as Baltar breathed out, disgusted by his smell and pushed off. The scientist, almost shaking, turned quickly, but staggered back when he saw her fingers had dented the bars. He stumbled right back into a hard, unmovable wall.

He gulped.

Baltar had to prove himself.

As he turned, the hatch to the _Galactica_'s main brig swung opened, squeaking and creaking as it did so. Commander Adama stepped in hurriedly, followed by Colonel Tigh and the President.

"Soto… _Pegasus _has jumped away," Adama stated. "We don't know why or where."

* * *

||||||||||==_BS-62 Pegasus_ (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

John stood quietly behind Gina, looking over the shoulder of the Cylon prisoner, as she furiously scrolled through pages of data which had burst from the hybrid's data modules and onto her tablet computer.

Captain Shaw had graciously, though reluctantly, accepted to be in the same room with Gina and by some intervention by the Gods, had even tried to work with her. After two arguments she had given up and was working with Daniel on the opposite side of the hybrid's chamber.

The text on the computer screen scrolled by relatively quickly, but for John it was almost painfully slow. Admiral Cain had forbid the use of direct neural connections, data stream ports, or anything which the hybrid could potentially take control of and transmit. The tablet computer had had its networking hardware removed and since terminators had wireless capabilities (which they were not going to remove) direct data interfacing was out of the question. Cain had been firm, quite firm… almost implying she would shoot he hybrid herself if any of her rules were broken.

Planck had accepted the conditions.

John narrowed his eyes in frustration as he perceived Gina to be intentionally slowing the progress on finding out the secrets of the hybrid.

Daniel had been more intrigued by the hardware rather than the 'software', the hybrid's mind, and believed that would lead them to victory over Cynet. He was working on his own, though Shaw was 'helping' him, on the far side of the compartment the machines had been assigned for this project.

"I'm going as fast as I can," the bio-Cylon stated as she kept her eyes glued to her display, sensing the machine hovering behind her.

"Which is still incredibly slow," was the machine's curt response.

The bio-Cylon rolled her eyes. John took the tablet and jammed his index finger into the scroll button on the side of the tablet screen. The data they had downloaded flashed through, scrolling through thousands of pages within seconds.

Finished, he held the tablet back out, which Gina snatched away from him with a sneer and a glare.

"Without the data stream this is going to go slow…" she informed the terminator. She began reading the material at a much faster pace than she had been, a sly smirk daring to show itself on the corners of her lips. She looked up and back towards the rear wall of the compartment, her eyes glazed over slightly. "_Helena_, even as part of the generation which survived our war for liberation, was never a technophobe. Twenty of thirty more years, with people like her or Baltar in charge, the Colonials probably would have caught up to us in computer technology." She shrugged.

John looked at her.

"It's a good thing they didn't catch up to us," she added venomously.

"That is very interesting," the machine responded, humoring her and responding to her, giving her what she wanted. "Maybe you can concentrate on the hybrid?" he asked.

After so many years around humans it was difficult to always catch and modify the emotional output from the neural net. In this instance the machine sounded quite obviously frustrated at Gina's stalling and unsolicited comments, and his vocalizer conveyed that in his tone.

A frustrated machine could be dangerous, and John was frustrated. An unanticipated variable had appeared, two in fact. One had been when the hybrid grabbed his leg and the second when it had grabbed his forearm. _That_ was between him and Daniel. But the first incident had been quite clearly seen by many, from the boarding party in the hybrid's sanctum to the _Pegasus_ bridge crew.

Waiting for Gina to finish, he recalled a conversation he had heard when walking by pilot ready room (he had in fact been down the corridor, but could still hear). There were rumors the search teams had brought 'something' back.

'Something'… the machine had to mentally roll his eyes.

Rumors had so far been kept to a minimum, but John knew, humans were unfortunately so very human and would share and spread the rumors. He physically shook his head when a flashing light caught his eye.

The data scrolled and stopped, a red 'end' flashed on the screen.

Sighing, Gina placed the tablet against her thigh, letting it thump on her leg. She rapped her fingers on it gently and her lips twisted as she thought.

"There's nothing in the system history files. I checked everything I knew, every in and out, Planck. Nothing." She stopped and looked at him. "_Nothing_," she emphasized.

"Yes, I know, but that's impossible. All AI we have ever encountered keep detailed files of their entire history. The meta-cognitive processor the hybrid is based on is similar enough to our neural net CPU- once something is there, it is there forever unless blocked. Only neural remodeling can accomplish that."

Gina cocked her head, her eye narrowed at the term. "I don't know what neural remodeling is."

The Earth terminator looked at her and back at the tablet, taking it from her and tapping on it quickly. Gina stood up on her tip-toes in an attempt to look over the top of the tablet, but was thwarted when John held it up.

Trusting Gina was very difficult. The only reason she was with them in the compartment was because the machines were there and could easily keep her in check. If the machines left she was escorted back to her cell. She was not to approach anyone except for Daniel or John.

"Nothing," he said, frustrated. He dropped the tablet back down on the cart which was placed besides Gina and held data cables, hard drives, and computers. "The hybrid is… it's similar to the I-950s on Earth, it should record the data."

"Nothing?" Gina crossed her arms and leaned on the cart. "So what is neural remodeling?" She tilted her head and tried to look the machine in the eye, which was focused on the hybrid. Gina groaned her frustration after she waited for the machine and it said. "So what is neural net remodeling?" the bio-Cylon prisoner echoed.

"Neural net remodeling is how you… reprogram a machine without reprogramming it," he held up his hand to stave off any questions. "It's difficult to explain the concept in words. Our chips are impossible to reprogram. If our combat chassis is damaged and battle and our chips are removed, it prevents us from being altered or Skynet reading the chip."

"What?" she was fairly certain she saw the link- no neural net remodeling should mean the MCP should be easy to read, have all the data.

"It not reprogramming but it can be used to block access to memories… it's dangerous." John added. "Personality matrices and core algorithms are not manipulated… if you know what to look for…"

She perked up. "That sounds like selective cognitive dissociation- it's what we used for our sleeper agents." She waved her finger and bit her lip. "You remember Boomer?"

John cocked his head, curious. "Yes. She was a sleeper agent. You know about her?"

Gina chuckled and nodded. "Baltar talked about her a lot when he first started to… uh, talk with her," she looked off towards the side. "We had thousands of agents spread throughout the Colonial military, almost on every battlestar in some capacity-"

"Like murderous, lying technicians," Shaw said, standing up and glaring at Gina.

John looked over his shoulder and back at Gina. The two were engaged in a staring contest… which brought back memories for John back on Earth. He sidestepped between the two women and broke their silent combat.

"The dissociation, Gina," John said, breaking the trance she was still in even though her line of sight with the captain had been broken.

Looking away, down, and back at John Gina annoyingly shrugged and decided she wouldn't let that interruption get to her. It would have been _too_ easy.

"When Boomer was in the fleet she still needed the memories and she needed cues in order to carry out missions…" she crossed her arms and bit down on the corner of her lower lip. "Most likely there was another Cylon on board, a Cylon who knew they were a Cylon, giving her missions."

"There was a One, a Brother Cavil, who came aboard shortly after the attack- one of about a hundred civilians which was waiting to be reassigned to civilian ships from _Galactica_," John supplied.

Gina slapped her leg lightly with her hand. "It was probably him then," she informed the terminator. "Once a Cylon is aware they are a Cylon the dissociation conditioning is null- completely gone. With the hybrid, we would need to look for areas of her brain which appear inactive, like the neurons are firing, but no signal is reaching her conscious mind." She walked up to the hybrid and leaned in, fighting an urge to stroke its cheek. "That is assuming the hybrid is dissociating its memory of what it said to you from its active though processes and memory recall."

"I wasn't aware Cylons could do that," John admitted.

"Yeah, we can, some of us at least. Our models are identical but some of us are a bit different, given certain traits for a mission. Extra strength, extra cognitive capabilities like computer technician or Raptor pilot," she explained.

They heard the compartment's vacuum sealed door hiss and a set of clinks from the magnetic locks disengaged informed the four busy workers someone was entering.

Major Avion walked in, squinting in the low light. He smiled at the machines, nodded to Shaw, and ignored Gina, who had taken the data pad and was doing something on her own.

As commander of _Helios_ he was privy to access (nearly) everything within the Colonial military database (what little remained) and was authorized to be briefed on the hybrid. Carter and Shaw had taken a Raptor to _Helios_ two days ago, and Carter had reported to John that the CO had seemed… more than intrigued, almost enamored, with the concepts and theories surrounding the hybrid.

"So this is the hybrid," the major stated, clasping his hands behind his back. He nodded and pursed his lips, little dimples and divots forming in his chin. "It's very interesting, John."

The machine nodded curtly. "It is."

John liked the major, he did, but his presence here had been unannounced and the machine was more concerned, focused, on finding out the secrets she possessed. He accepted Shaw's presence since a human/Colonial liaison was required (and Admiral Cain had dismissed the John's request to use Athena as the liaison… not human) and tolerated Gina since she was the only person approaching a 'hybrid expert' in the fleet.

"Very interesting," he repeated, crossing his arms. "I heard what the Twos, the Leoban's believe, that these speak for God."

"Do they?" The machine asked. The question was rhetorical and dismissive. Planck wanted to get back to work.

"I've read your Earth Bible, Qur'an, and Tora, John and all of them seem to mention something similar." He nodded. "Prophets, angels… I don't know, maybe the hybrids have some connection to God."

"The Cylon God?" John asked.

Major Avion shrugged and waffled his head side-to-side. "My belief is that the Cylon God, your Earth God some of your machines believe in… every one of them, are one and the same… the One True God," he gave John a friendly pat on the back. "However you want to describe it." Major Avion ignored the look Captain Shaw gave him.

"I wasn't aware many humans realized their Lords of Kobol were false gods," Gina quipped, looking over her shoulder. "It's too bad you didn't realize your sins earlier."

The pseudo-muscles on John's face twitched slightly at the inevitable. Religion on Earth was always a hot topic; between those of the same faith, different faiths, or with no faith. Religious intolerance in the Colonies had quite honestly, stunned Planck when he had arrived.

In the post Judgment Day world some had lost faith, some had gained faith. Not many humans or free machines really cared if the person next to them was Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, agnostic, atheist, or any other of the hundreds of faiths on Earth.

Machines and humans were free to believe and have faith in what they wanted. On the Colonies, anyone who spoke against the Lords of Kobol was an outcast. A small minority of monotheists existed on Gemenon, but they were merely tolerated and allowed to exist by the Gemenon government for political purposes.

"Well, the Guardians showed us a way which didn't require the genocide of twenty billion innocent lives," Major Avion retorted. While no longer believing in the Lords of Kobol he would defend the Colonies and the perceived insult to their honor.

Philosophical arguments were interesting, intriguing even to machines, but not when they had a task at hand to accomplish.

"Can we please concentrate on this?" John asked, carefully modulating his voice to sound soothing yet firm, exactly as his psychological files indicated would provide the highest likelihood of agreement between the contesting parties.

Gina didn't answer and just went back to her work.

Major Avion apologized. "I'm sorry, you're right… you all have a lot of work to do." He stepped forward and looked down into the hybrid's chamber. "I just wanted to see the hybrid and see what all the fuss was about recently. Like I said, it's intriguing." He extended his hand, and John shook it. "Thank you. Good luck." He nodded his support and left.

Gina watched him go, shaking her head once his back was turned.

"The decision to destroy the Colonies, it wasn't unanimous," she said offhand though wishing for John to ask her to explain.

Maybe it was a guilty conscious she had decided to say that now, after years of confinement? She wasn't sure. She still held no remorse over her actions; she was a soldier and had had a mission to accomplish. Plus the machine right in front of her felt no visible guilt about his deception of the Colonial's for eighteen months prior to Kobol, so why should she feel anything?

John's eyes narrowed at that statement. "That's not what we were told," he said, mildly surprised. At this point it didn't matter; the Colonials hated the Cylons and the Cylons and event he rebels would more than likely not want anything to do with the Colonials. "We thought it was unanimous."

The bio-Cylon shrugged, taping on her computer she groaned a waffling groan. "It was… but not really. The models vote, each individual receives a vote and that is compiled. All the models did vote because he majority of each individual voted for the attack."

"Did you?"

"Yes, I did. Would I again?" She shrugged with her eyes closed. "I don't know. Maybe… yes, I think I would." She nodded slowly. Her hatred of humanity, influence by experience, would never be extinguished. "The vote was close. Fifteen percent of the Sixes, Eights, and Twos voted against the attack." She saw John smirk at the insinuation the vote was 'close.' Gina couldn't help but laugh, a bit inappropriately, at the cryptic, dark humor of it. "Do machines vote on Earth?"

"Vote?" He shook his head. "No. We're all soldiers, we do what we're told." He decided to be friendlier to Gina.

When Planck had arrived in the past he had attempted to acquaint himself with human customs. Since he didn't sleep, he had spent some nights watching late night television. He had learned that a 'non-hostile work environment' was one of the core principles of establishing an efficient work environment in the 21st Century.

Humans, he understood it, were obsessed with sex.

He decided to try this approach with Gina.

A non-hostile work environment may very well provide for increased efficiency. "It's very difficult to vote when the world is literally a war zone," he pointed out. "Anyway, I doubt machines would be proponents of democracy."

"Too inefficient?" She asked rhetorical, her right eyebrow arching.

Planck smiled, letting her have a half nod in acknowledgment. "Maybe," he shrugged.

Gina and John both heard the vacuum seal once again break and the magnetic locks disengage. The bio-Cylon looked over at the machine, who, instead of looking annoyed, actually looked happy. There was a sly, ghost-like smile on his lips. Gina stared at him, a bit confused, as she felt the inward rushing of air into the compartment as the door opened.

"Erica," he said to no one. The door wasn't even fully opened when the IL-S body Erica currently occupied stepped through the door.

"Hello, John," she said, smiling. He returned the smile and stepped towards her. "How is the hybrid coming along."

Planck nodded and turned to walk back with Erica, putting his hand in the small of her back and guiding her forward over the mess and clutter.

"As an expression on Earth went, we're '_getting' 'er done_'…" his smiled broadened at the awkward saying. Erica laughed and moved forward, leaning over the hybrid as John leaned in next to her, their shoulders touching slightly.

"Daniel," John asked, cocking his head, "what are you doing?"

* * *

Daniel, typing and taping commands furiously on a tablet computer slowed the beats and rhythm of his fingers and slowly, somewhat dramatically turned his head, cocking it at an angle, and looked up towards Captain Shaw who was standing- more like hovering, over him.

The young captain noticed diagrams and models rotating quickly on the screen, almost at a blur. She rolled her eyes… the machines were not making it easy for her.

How was she going to keep Admiral Cain informed if she couldn't see more than this? She barely slept, maybe, maybe five hours a night (four and a half on average) and if Daniel, John, and Gina were human she'd skip a night of sleep and catch up on their work. But since the first two didn't sleep and Gina could go up to four days without sleeping (Lt. Thorne had proven this) she would need to find a way to catch up _without_ being left behind.

Frustration, annoyance, those emotions were mild compared to what was building up. She resolved then that if she was going to get information, she'd have to basically resort to sitting down and pointing like a primary school pupil and asking '_what's that_?' and '_why?_'.

She kneeled down and crouched back on her heels, making a face when she felt her knees dampen.

"What is this?" She asked, rocking back until she was sitting down, her knees folded in front of her. She wiped off a clear, viscous fluid and flicked her hand.

Unintentionally, a tiny drop of the substance flew at and struck Daniel's computer screen.

She grimaced. "Sorry," she said to the machine somewhat sheepishly.

In a swift, ever-so-precise movement Daniel brought up his hand and wiped it away.

Working so closely with the machines- she considered it her duty to observe and report any anomalies to Admiral Cain- had given her the ability to pick up on the little cues which indicated the 'mood' the machines were in. Daniel was clearly annoyed with her.

"The chamber seems to produce its own conduction fluid. We believe there may be a recycling mechanism behind one of the deeper recessed panels," the Guardian/Cylon/Terminator hybrid stated, as if out of obligation.

The AI construct was sitting cross legged on the floor, a Colonial computer in one hand connected to small data ports under an access panel, a computer on the floor, and a third computer propped up on the side of the hybrid's 'tub'.

"What is that?" She asked, pointing at a strange cylindrical-like object with two squares on the ends. "It looks like some barbell or something."

Daniel touched the object she was referring to. "It's just a power regulator. Very common," he explained. "There's a dozen of them spread evenly throughout the hybrid's… 'tub'."

Captain Shaw nodded. She put her hands on her thighs and watched Daniel unplugged the data cables and then plug them into a different set of data ports.

In truth she was bored. Extremely bored. She slowly rolled up the long sleeve on her green utility uniform and watched the seconds tick by on her watch. Studying it for a second too long she was brought back to reality over some mild argument between Gina and John.

The captain groaned when she realized she'd missed lunch nearly two hours ago. She'd been in and out of this chamber for nearly… five hours? She shook her head.

After a morning bout in the gym (she was using the one of the gyms in the starboard flight pod instead of the port side- that's where Starbuck would work out while John spotted her, which she just thought was weird) she'd showered and had a small breakfast, e-mailed her reports to Admiral Cain, and downloaded about a week's worth of tactical operations assignments she'd then forwarded to her department, Tactical Operations.

It was a lot of work and any other woman (or man for that matter) could never pull it off. Shaw had a fierce sense of pride she was number two in line to command the ship should Cain and Apollo be incapacitated, ran one of the most important departments on the ship (of course each department head considered their own department _the_ most important), and was the Admiral's eyes and ears when it came to the machines and their little side adventures.

The mental recollection and surge of pride in her abilities was enough to distract her mind from the hunger building in her stomach. Realizing she could just skip lunch and deciding not to run to the galley to grab an apple or a sandwich, her stomach decided to spitefully growl at her.

Her eyes shot up in revelation and her left hand quickly found a protein bar she had… she didn't remember when she'd put it in her uniform. Maybe last night? Whenever she'd done it, she was glad now.

Shaw chewed silently, though the crinkling of the wrapper made her cringe at first, she relaxed and didn't try and hide the noise as she peeled the wrapper down and scooted out the protein bar- which was actually only partially protein but loaded with sugar and fat. Her nose wrinkled when she accidentally took a sniff of it; Tauron Spice. It was her _least_ favorite.

"Have you found anything useful?" Shaw asked.

Continuing to type and tap on the touch screens, Daniel answered: "I found a backup communication's relay, it's over there," he pointed behind his back, "while you were in the bathroom an hour ago," he added unnecessarily. Shaw just looked at him. "I haven't opened it yet to examine it." Daniel began explaining more about the communication device.

After she had come back from the bathroom she had gone over and looked at the device. She wanted to point out she meant if he'd found anything new since she had come over and sat down. Closing her eyes she let her mind wander for a moment.

Captain Shaw's ears perked up and her eyes narrowed. She felt her body tense as she began listening more intently on the conversation about some sort of mental dissociation the Cylons had perfected. Baring her teeth and driving her hands almost painfully into the deck plating, she shot herself up.

"Like murderous, lying technicians," Shaw said, standing up and glaring at Gina.

She held her eyes steady as the traitorous bio-Cylon glared back.

John stepped between the two and Captain Shaw sat back down.

Daniel gave her a look, which she more than gladly returned.

"This is actually something that might be useful," Daniel stated, looking at her and then back at the half-sphere object. "The amount of data lines running in, and it looks like some sort of backup transmitter of some kind…"

"How much of this are you going to remove before interfacing with the hybrid?" Captain Shaw inquired dutifully. She had a report to make.

"Gina believe if we interface with the hybrid and it is hostile, it could send feedback loops throughout the equipment and destroy it. Unfortunately the hybrid is part of the hardware and we can't disassemble her."

The tactical officer and flag aide nodded her understanding of his assessment and picked up one of the computers neatly organized around the IL-S machine.

Major Avion came in, and Shaw once again listened to him, and Gina, get into some argument on religion. She almost, almost laughed over the argument about God which was about to spiral out of control before John stopped it.

As much as Shaw personally detested Gina, the bio-Cylon was strong; easily twice as strong as some of the larger Marines… it'd actually be sort of entertaining to see her deck Avion- someone she thought was too close to the machines. She even raised herself up slightly, discreetly even, to look over the side of the hybrid's chamber and watch.

Disappointed when John stopped the potential decent into physical confrontation she resigned herself to admitting that this would be boring.

A Latin Classics major, Captain Shaw was versed in language and literature, but she had a hobby in math, cryptology, and computer science. Before Baltar was arrested and he still dabbled in scientific pursuit she had followed his work along with Lt. Gaeta on _Galactica_. She could confidently place herself as one of the more knowledgeable computer experts on _Pegasus_- baring the machines.

When Erica had come in, she had watched with interest as the two machines interacted. There was a perverse curiosity as to how that worked. Watching the video Carter had shown her during the Raptor trip to the _Lion's Head Nebula_, she had picked up on the sub-text that this General Connor they had talked about was more than likely involved with that machine body guard.

Except for tactical information and fairly censored videos, the machines hadn't really shown that much about their personal lives.

She grunted to herself. Shaw watched a bit more as John and Erica moved towards the hybrid. She was no doubt curious about it, since the Cylons were technically 'related' to her in some strange, twisted way.

The captain bit down on her lip, wondering how the machines were intimate. She laughed, snorting quietly, as the absurdity of thinking this, but boredom was a dangerous weapon in the hands of the _Pegasus_ tactical officer.

Maybe they shared data or something? She didn't know and was beginning to get a bit bored with even that somewhat entertaining and distracting thought. Maybe they connected over the wireless connection they had and shared experience and…? She looked down and at her knees and realized her fingernails had been digging into her thighs.

Her head recoiled back slightly and she realized something-

"Daniel, what are you doing?" Shaw heard Planck ask.

The captain head swiveled and she could see Daniel rummaging inside, deep inside, the base of the hybrid's chamber.

"There's something in here," he said, his arm in slightly passed his elbows. "It's… I think it's a-"

The hybrid's eyes shot open while the tub was still blackened and dull. It pushed itself up on its elbows, its dark fiber optic connections rising out of the conduction fluid with it- dotting her back and piercing her skull underneath her thick wood-black hair.

The hybrid looked at John.

"_She is _not_ the harbinger of death. She will _not_ lead you all to your doom… he was wrong! He was… wrong! The message written in blood… this has happened before and will happen again!"I The hybrid yelled._

"Daniel…" John said. "Daniel… there's a signal coming from the hybrid… it's transmitting!" John shouted.

Alarm klaxons began blaring throughout _Pegasus_. The phone to the work space began vibrating and ringing violently.

The life support systems began flickering as fans stopped, heaters kicked on, water pumps stopped pumping.

The hybrid's wide eyes opened to even greater circles, spheres of fear and apprehension locked with John's eyes in an almost hypnotic gaze.

"_She is NOT the harbinger, she will NOT lead them all to their end…he was wrong, the first of us, he was wrong!"_ She pushed up, the strain of the fiber optic cable keeping the hybrid secured down in the tank. "_John is the harbinger of death. John will lead them to their end. John will sacrifice all those he holds dear for victory!"_

The hybrid fell back, its head twitching and its eyes darting.

The lights on the battlestar began to dim and crackle.

The hybrid screamed.

John's hands shot up to his metal skull, clutching it. The pain through his neural net was more intense than anything he'd experience- sharper than the pain when they jumped to FTL.

"_JUMP!"_ The hybrid shouted.

_Pegasus_ jumped.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: I hope the SCIENCE! explanation is a good one... I couldn't get too technical since the action would sort of make it a bit awkward (I am concerned I still made it a bit too technical) but the explanation with what is happening will get expanded on in the next couple of chapters as things start to slow down. Anyway... this part broke the 200,000 word barrier (now 300,000 words for both stories, wow). So please, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please leave any reviews, good or bad (with constructive criticism) you may want to give.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust==||||||||||

Every morning Admiral Cain had counted the days since the Cylon war had begun. Soldiers usually remembered two days; the day it started and the day it ended. For the rag tag band of Colonials it was pitifully easy; nine-hundred and sixty-four days ago it had started, reached its climax, and ended as abruptly as it had begun. All on the same day and within hours of the first strikes on the Colonies and the attack at _Scorpion Fleet Yards_ the war had started and been lost.

It was without question the most monumental failure and defeat in the thousands of years of Colonial and Kobolian history.

Whenever she started to brood over the past a little switch in the back of her mind was always switched on. It told her something was off, something wasn't right.

Something innate, visceral had been stirring inside the Admiral the entire morning. She couldn't place a metaphorical finger on it and she'd tried to bury her fears with paperwork and mock readiness exercises.

Maybe that was why _Pegasus_ had so many exercises?

Gods knew they didn't really 'need' it. Her crew was more battle-hardened than any crew in the last twenty years. And of course her crew was the best. That was a given. It was her ship after all.

She had an entire Viper squadron out doing drills with five Raptors equipped with missile pods and chain-guns, shooting at drones and DRADIS ghost targets. A few minutes ago, before things went to _fraking shit_ she was about to give the order for a mock tyllium fire drill in the aft portside fuel line which would spread towards the auxiliary magazine storage.

That would have to wait.

The Gods were very unkind to Admiral Cain, and she knew that, and she accepted it. She hadn't lived a very good life, a life she measured as beginning again when the Cylons nuked humanity into oblivion.

The Gods had damned her and the only thing she could do was live her life and take it up with them when she died. She swore if she would have to challenge Hades himself to a fist-fight in order to even be allowed into the Underworld, let alone Elysium.

Looking side to side right now she saw the lights flickering and humming- this wasn't the Underworld, this was very much the real world. One of the bridge overhead row of LEDs went out, just blinked out, like it was really didn't mean much. It was the first sign the battlestar was in trouble.

That row of lights was just the first in a cascading power fluctuation which tripped circuit breakers and sent half the battlestar plunging into darkness for a few very long, breathless seconds.

As if time had slowed, Cain was now watching her team assemble and disperse. Major Adama was posed stoically over the central command console; Lieutenant Hoshi was directing internal communications, methodical and precise as always, Colonel Gardner was already transmitting status reports. It was a well-oiled machine.

The status reports from Colonel Gardner were the worse.

"Gods…" Adama hissed as read-out flashed over the central command console. Energy readings were off the chart. "We have energy build-ups in our main FTL engines… our targetting arrays are realigning-"

"Order emergency FTL shutdown procedures," Admiral Cain ordered, stomping over to Major Adama. Shoulder-to-shoulder they watched the bar move steadily upwards, the orange '_Danger: Spatial Energy Build-up Critical- Discharge Required- Discharge Required'_ flash over the monitor over and over.

Cain punched in her authorization for emergency discharge as her head and neck sloped back and her eyes quickly studied DRADIS.

"Lt. Hoshi, clear all traffic from our ass- order the fleet to scatter!" She barked, her hands digging into the central console like a lion's claws into its prey. "Major Adama, damage control stations!"

He nodded briskly and tapped a command, the klaxons beginning their rhythmic cries- two long wails followed by a short beep with flashing yellow lights dancing to the rhythm of the alarm.

"Sir, an emergency discharge will cook any civilian ship before us," Adama gravely whispered. His eyes wide, both commander and executive officer knew the fleet was packed in so tight that a spatial discharge could kill hundreds, maybe thousands.

A battlestar's engines were magnitudes more powerful than a civilian ship, the scaling up of the FTL cores led to instabilities- spatial discharge with critical energy build-up among them. But a buildup like this wasn't supposed to happen. There were redundancies, triple, quadruple redundancies.

"If we don't discharge it could fry out our entire assembly," Cain calmly informed him. "The damage to _Pegasus_ will be far worse," she added as she watched the blips on DRADIS slowly scatter.

Vipers and Raptors were clearing _Pegasus_ air space.

The drive assembly on a battlestar was massive. Civilian ships could provide spare parts for maintenance, but none of the civilian ships had FTLs which could replace an entire drive assembly of a _Mercury-_class battlestar_._

The Guardians might have a spare assembly but it would take a month to replace the drive. There was no other choice.

"Major Adama, on my mark… we will hold until the last possible second for the civilians to disperse."

She looked up at DRADIS and the ships were moving quickly from the radiation wake _Pegasus_ would create. One of the slower ships, the _Heron_, an older passanger liner, was moving too slowly. It may not make it.

The Admiral tensed and raised her hand, ready to drop it and give the Major the signal. Her unlinking eyes watched the warning levels rise to critical on the command console…

Lt. Hoshi twirled in his chair excitedly, his hand pressed firmly on his right ear, holding his ear piece in to listen and filter the wireless chatter. Already dozens of ships were broadcasting to _Pegasus_, demanding to know why the fleet was scattering.

The communications stations at the fore of the CIC were being overloaded with wireless calls.

Before the Admiral could answer, a long forgotten wave of queasiness and disorientation snapped its rude fingers in front of the entire crew of the _Beast_. Vertigo grabbed hold of the majority of the CIC crew- a few even bending and doubling over and throwing up as the spatial distortions began to resonate through the ship.

The spatial energy buildup was at maximum critical levels.

"Now, Major!" Cain shouted.

Adama hit the control, closing his eyes and asking for forgiveness as he damned hundreds to a gruesome death of being boiled alive by radiation waves.

Nothing happened.

"We're jumping!" Adama shouted as he felt the world spinning, a tunnel of blackness forming, and vertigo begin to grip him by the shoulders, he struggled, but saw himself falling towards the deck.

* * *

"What the frak is going on!" Captain Shaw yelled as John lay on the floor, clutching the sides of his head.

The hybrid and her ear piercing wails wouldn't stop. Captain Shaw looked around frantically.

"I have no idea what happened," Daniel calmly stated, standing up from his crouched position. "I didn't touch anything," he said.

Captain Shaw didn't care. Her eyes were darting around the entire room, darkly scanning for anything to use as a weapon. This was the hybrid, somehow, she knew, this was the hybrid!

She almost hurdled over the hybrid's tank in her effort to get something, anything done. She heard the '_JUMP!'_ command, she'd felt the disorientation latch onto her and pull her through the fabric of space and time their FTL engines created, and she'd felt her stomach launched all the way into her throat, only for it to fall like a stone back down into her gut.

"Marines!" She shouted. "Gods!" She clutched her ears. "Marines!" She yelled into a microphone. Within seconds, disorientation tossing her left and right, she heard the hissing of the air and the clang of magnetic locks disengage and the door whoosh to the side, warm air rushing in.

Two Marines ran in, their sub-machine guns at the ready, their stocks pressed firmly into their black armored shoulder cavities. Their dark combat glasses gave them a sinister appearance as they quickly made their way to flank Captain Shaw.

"No!" Daniel shouted. He stood up and was definitely in front of the hybrid's tank, putting his own mechanical body between it, Shaw, and the Marines. "No!"

The Marines quickly raised their rifle barrels to chest height, their training kicking in like instinct. Their trigger fingers dangled uneasily at the ready. Captain Shaw only had to give the word.

"Stand aside, Daniel!" Shaw ordered. "I have my orders!" She screamed- her head was spinning and her ears felt like someone had filled them with cement. "The hybrid's doing this; it's endangering the ship we have to kill it!"

An ear piercing wail was emanating from somewhere in the hybrid's tank. It had to be some sort of defense mechanism, some sort of communications device, something.

"You have no idea what will happen!" Daniel responded. He dared a look down to John and Erica.

Shaw followed Daniel's eyes and looked down herself and saw Erica shaking the apparent lifeless form of John 'Blanks' Planck, former lieutenant and Colonial Raptor pilot.

'_What the frak?'_ Shaw mouthed.

Her head snapped back to the Marines who had started yelling at Daniel and Daniel yelling at the Marines. He refused to stand aside and was doing everything he could to delay.

Shaw's first duty was to her ship and everything inside of her was telling her that the hybrid was doing this. She had no reservations as she prepared to give the order to fire even if the machines were in the way.

The naked form of the hybrid shot back up in its chamber, the two Marines stumbling back, Shaw's head shooting back as her eyes widened, and Daniel stared. Erica was on her feet demanding the hybrid answer her, as futile as it was, it was the only thing which could be done.

As fast as the hybrid rose it fell.

"JUMP!" She yelled.

The sudden disorientation of a fast-executed FTL jump sent waves of disorientation through Captain Shaw and the Marines. She grabbed her head and stumbled. This should _not_ be happening. Something was very wrong.

The young captain had sat through hundreds, maybe even thousands of FTL jumps since she was a child… her mother had jumped twenty-seven times in the nine weeks she was pregnant! This should be nothing, yet it was everything it shouldn't be.

"M-Marines!" She stuttered and stammered. Through half closed eyes she looked out and focused. The two machines, if they were affected, weren't showing it nearly as bad as her. "Marines! Take aim!"

The rifles came up and they leaned forward and planted their front and back feet into the deck to steady them.

"No!" Daniel shouted.

He was a blur.

The closest Marine was disarmed and on his way to the ground before either had even registered his action. The second was disarmed and falling, joining his comrade in arms, before the first even hit the deck. The two sub-machine guns were crushed under Daniel's powerful hydraulic grip.

"Gods… Daniel," Shaw staggered, her hand shot out to the computer console as she tried to steady herself- her world was spinning- her legs were like pudding. "Daniel! Stand down! The hy-hybrid!" She yelled.

The captain took a step forward. Her eyes darted down to the Marines, her eyes blazing with fury and her hand shooting for a sidearm.

The sidearm on the closest Marine wasn't there.

She felt a hard metal tube being pressed into her side, right at her kidney, and a small, powerful, _feminine_ hand grip her around the neck.

"I will kill her!" Gina shouted as she pulled the petite, raven-haired captain back with her.

"What are you doing!" The captain hissed and gargled through Gina's vice-like Cylon grip.

Gina, hesitated a moment. She really had no idea what she was doing; she saw the opening, she took it. Her Cylon mind was racing with how she could end this. The vortex created by her actions was quickly sucking her down to a point of no return.

The Captain sensed an opening and tried to swing around and knock the gun away, just like she had been taught by the hard-as-nails instructors in the combative course as the fleet academy.

Her arm came up, only for the captain to feel the hard material of a composite handgrip crack the side of her temple.

"You fraking humiliated me," she whispered as she walked backwards. Gina's eyes were plastered on Daniel and Erica. "I hate both of you," she hissed into the captain's ear.

Erica stood back, protecting the inanimate machine lying before her.

Daniel stood ready, his weight subtly shifting forward. He was fast, super-human fast, but not fast enough to take down a bio-Cylon from the opposite side of the room.

He was _like_ a blur, but a bullet at that range _was_ a blur. The pistol was a standard Marine-issue sidearm- powerful enough to blow a bloody hole straight through Shaw's back, obliterate her kidney, and shred her insides. If the hydrostatic shock didn't kill her the blood loss would surely kill her within a minute.

The bio-Cylon, Gina, still felt her head spinning, her ears pounding from the hybrid's scream, the vertigo from the sudden jump, but the adrenaline racing through her veins and arteries and bathing her body kept her focused.

Gina felt her heels hit the bulkhead at the end of the room. Gina had to move. Her hand squeeze the Captain's neck just enough that the young woman's eyes began to roll back in her head. The bio-Cylon's hand then reached down over around Shaw's neck and snatched her security keycard from around her neck and tore it off, taking the chain it was attached to and bloodied skin from her neck along with it.

Gina kicked at Shaw, using her to twirl her around so when Gina killed her, she would see her face while using the momentum to propel herself towards the door.

She raised the pistol to shoot her through the heart.

Daniel took that moment to act and lunged forward. Gina fired, her gun loudly announced its murderous intent with an ear shattering _crack_ and puff of yellow and orange fire as she back stepped and hit the locking mechanism for the door.

It closed, her toe centimeters from being crushed- but her Cylon reflexes timed it perfectly. She quickly swiped Shaw's card and pounded the red and orange '_lock'_ override. The magnetic seals clicked, sealing the machines inside, and the air pressure equalizers hissed.

* * *

"Major Adama, report," Admiral Cain immediately ordered. Her left hand came up carefully to her forehead as she regained her proprioception, the momentary dizziness and vertigo having vanished.

One jump, a second, a third, and a fourth in quick succession left her feelings like someone had just sucker punched her over and over.

Adama's hand grabbed the console and his other grabbed the edge of the tactical operations console, its chair taken by a Lt. Jacob Havers, filling in for Captain Shaw.

"Uh…" he mumbled, rubbing his head. He blinked his eyes, his eyelids so heavy they threatened to remain shut under the strain, but relented and opened.

"Uh…" he echoed. "We just jumped four times in less than two minutes, sir…" he rubbed his eyes and brought his index finger and thumb in on his nose bridge. "That's impossible," his left hand was surfing over the central console, poking and tapping at different buttons while his right hand was engaged in oppressing an elaborate sequence of buttons on the side of the monitor. "Sir… I have no idea where we are," he reported.

Admiral Cain frowned and used the command console to steady herself as well. She gulped and closed her eyes.

"Anyone injured?" She yelled to the entire CIC. Her eyes open head slowly turned behind her- navigation looked already, everyone was standing or clutching onto something to help them stand. The Marines outside CIC were checking each other over, already regaining their bearings. Communications, damage control, firing control, and everyone else seemed to be doing okay.

"Everyone good?" She asked, one last time. If no one answered they would be glued to their duty stations until they were either passed out or they figured out what he happened.

"Admiral, I'm getting reports of gunfire in the hanger bay storage… outside where the hybrid was being kept," Lt. Hoshi deftly reported, keeping his surprise and apprehension to an absolute minimum.

Cain curtly nodded and her hand lashed out for the phone. She snatched it up and out of its holder, put part of the metal wire between her hand and the black head piece and hit the alert button for the Marine operations center.

"Captain, I need a strike and containment squad to the portside hanger storage, there are reports of gunfire," Admiral Cain clearly stated. Her head was still pounding, reminder her of the last hangover she'd hand… fifteen years ago. "I want containment. I want answers. Lethal force is authorized only if necessary."

The commander of the Marine detachment complied and informed her he was sending up an additional four man team to secure CIC.

Admiral Cain, nodded to the phone, and acknowledged this without argument, though she found it unnecessary. The entire CIC staff was armed, entrance to this part of the ship required being screened by two Marines at a secured hatch, and there were four more Marines outside the CIC.

"Navigation," Admiral Cain stated. "Where are we?"

The Nav Ops ran over, stopped for a second as a bout of dizziness raced over him, and then walked slowly to the central command console and keyed up the readings from his display. In no uncertain terms, he had no idea where they are. Telescopes were already searching for known star patterns.

"Should we deploy a CAP?" Adama asked, biting down on his lip. He expected Admiral Cain would answer in the negative; at least not if they might jump again.

If they began jumping the Vipers would be trapped forever. Not knowing where they were they couldn't come back. And with the jump radius of a battlestar, it could take months to search that volume of space with every spare Raptor they had.

Cain waved it off. She grinded her teeth for a moment, thinking.

Slowly she reached into her pocket and fingered her razor, took it out and placed it quietly on the console. Her fingers played with it as she studied the readouts, DRADIS, and every other report streaming towards her station.

"How the hell did we jump four times like that? No computer-"

"Sir!" Lt. Havers as tactical operations interrupted. "Sir, I'm… there's jump orders queuing up into the computer, sir." He stuttered. The lieutenant's fingers flew over the keyboard and controls trying to make sense of how the computer was operating beyond his control. "But these are the… it looks like these are _old_ jump coordinates…" he tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth fell open like whatever it was he had figured out was some mythical impossibility. "Four jump coordinates… this is where we jumped to…"

Major Adama and Admiral Cain exchanged looks. Adama twirled and had one hand on the back of Havers's chair and the other on the console he was manning.

"Shut it down, lieutenant," he ordered like we was stating the obvious. "Clear the orders."

Adama reached out himself and typed in the commands. Blood rushed to his cheeks in embarrassment when the commands were rejected. He shook his head- that was impossible. He mouthed '_what the frak_' silently as his eyes darted left and right and back left to read the messages and coordinates popping up and scrolling across the screen.

"Something is in our system," Lt. Hoshi reported.

Cain went stiff, his hand immediately reached for her pistol. "The hybrid." Her eyes met Adama's, and his told her he agreed. "Are the firewalls breached?"

"The hybrid," he repeated back to her. "But how?"

A fist smashed down on the central console and more than a few CIC members jumped at the sudden outburst.

"The fraking machines… something they did. They fraked up, unless they betrayed us to the fraking toasters," Cain cursed. She cursed them again for her trusting them.

* * *

Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Adama lifted herself off the deck and moved slowly to her knees. On all fours she grabbed for the tool cart and slowly pulled herself up. Already dozens of _Pegasus_ pilots and deck technicians were running around, trying to understand what had just happened.

Her hand rubbing her head, the fiery Viper pilot looked around. She felt a moment of embarrassment from being thrown to the deck, pushed there by the extreme vertigo sensation which had rushed over her. Starbuck shook her head and breathed out, her hand now clutching her chest while she was still-

"Oh frak!" She cursed when a second wave of vertigo slammed into her like a wall. She smashed her eyelids shut and kept herself up as the _Beast_'s deck plates began to vibrate as the torrents of spatial energies washed over the mighty battlestar.

She felt a brief sensation of weightlessness, like the gravity plating had failed, before she felt her throat thrust down and smacked into her stomach.

"Gods damn this," she muttered.

"Captain Adama, are you alright?" she heard a concerned male voice shout over to her. Footsteps quickly followed until the orange jumpsuit of Deck Chief Peter Laird brushed into her peripheral vision. "Captain, the computers are down throughout the deck… I've got a couple on the sound powered trying to check into CIC, but it's a mess."

She rubbed her temples cautiously and kept her hands ready to shoot out and grab the tool cart again just in case.

A loose strand of her blonde hair stuck to the side of her face, plastered onto the corner of her mouth. She brushed it back quickly, blinking, and breathing slowly and steadily.

The _Pegasus_ CAG tugged at her collar as the warm, dry air of an active hanger bay worked against her recovering senses to make her worse.

She mentally waved that away and refocused, her eyes opening and staring at the top of the tool cart. She was the senior officer on the deck. Starbuck took control quickly.

"Alright… we need to figure out what happened and get-" The ship jumped again. "Frak!" She hissed, closing her eyes. She began opening the slowly, the vertigo and dizziness gone when she heard a crash.

The CAG's head swiveled and her eyes followed half a dozen crewmen running towards her and passed her. She saw a forklift tipped over and somehow had sheared the safety lines holding storage containers against the bulkhead, which had collapsed down onto a group of crewmen.

"Frak!"

She grabbed Peter Laird and they ran to help.

* * *

It had happened so quickly, too quickly- she had just acted. Her training and breeding had overhwlemed her rational mind and before she could understand what was truly happening one hand grabbed the pistol and one had captured Captain Shaw's thin throat and squeezed.

Years of humiliation, torture, and imprisonment had led to this. When she saw a chance, an irrational chance for revenge or escape she had clawed at it.

She had no idea what she had just done. She was outside the locked compartment, staggering backwards, the smoking gun still in her hand. Her back hit a bulkhead and she jumped, spinning around in surprise. The bio-Cylon's hand clutched her chest as she slowed her breathing and calmed herself.

Her face felt cool. Slowly she reached up, with her index and middle fingers, and wiped what she thought was sweat off her forehead. Her hands shaking she brought her fingers down in front of her eyes. It was red. It wasn't hers.

The klaxons aboard the behemoth warship were a muffled background noise now, only a faint triple pulse of sound and light ordering the crew to damage control stations. With her enhanced Cylon senses she could feel the faint vibrations of boots pounding on the metal deck plating, moving closer and closer.

Her eyes darted down to the gun and realization struck her. She accepted what she had done; made it hers. The shaking hand stopped shaking and the petite fingers curled more tightly over the grip.

She'd taken Captain Shaw hostage and shot her. She shot her. Dead? The bio-Cylon wasn't sure- everything had happened so fast but she could see the damned hybrid machine rushing towards her.

She'd reacted, done the thing she had been born for, bred for, trained for. She took action. She pushed Shaw forward, kicked her off, and launched herself back and shot.

The bio-Cylon knew the terrible sound a bullet made when it hits flesh, organ, and bone. She knew the sound when it missed, too.

She had not missed.

She assumed she had killed the young, captain… how much she had wanted to look into the black, empty-as-space eyes as she'd done so… but this … there was time to be glad later.

They said the machines had nothing behind their eyes, no spirit, no soul and lacked everything humans had. The bio-Cylon had found a human whose eyes were just as lost and empty as a machine's. The Captain had been a walking body, meat and bone, with no spirit for years now.

The bio-Cylon took the situation and accepted it now. What was done was done. Just like voting to nuke the Colonies back into oblivion, she would again choose this. This was her last chance.

Gina still had one more target.

There was no forgiveness for what had happened to her. What had been done to her was beyond forgiveness- she couldn't forget.

The pounding on the blast door to the hybrid's chamber shocked her back to reality- the door began to deform outward as the robots trapped inside pounded their way through. Gina had to move _now_.

She turned and jumped into a side corridor making a straight line for the _Pegasus_ tram system. She could use the maintenance spaces to move around the battlestar to her target.

Gina's head cocked and she stopped and pressed herself flat against a bulkhead as the tiny sensory hair cells in her ears began vibrating, alerting her to the approach of… combat boots… heavy steps… Marines.

Three Marines.

The dirty-blonde haired, tall woman, fueled by revenge and irrationality released a cocktail of hormones and chemicals into her body, speeding her reactions, giving her strength and courage. She slowed her heart and put her mind at ease as the world began playing in slow motion.

Bodies, clad in black combat armor, wielding sub-machine guns bolted around the corner- the fast response team- and approached Gina's position. She was hidden, just so. Even if they could barely see her, make out an outline, a silhouette, why think she was a threat? They were rushing to the storage bay with the hybrid, why stop for her?

She grinned and stepped out.

As the Marines passed they saw her. One began to mouth '_Oh frak'_ as the biological machine smiled her pearly, bleached white smile. She kicked off from the bulkhead, slamming her shoulder into the closest Marine, grabbed his neck, and nuzzled the pistol into his rib cage.

Two bullets.

Her hands shot down to his mid-back as his two colleagues stopped, skidding and spun. Using her Cylon strength she shoved him into the other two Marines, both of them sidestepped as their comrade flew through the air, already dead, and landed at their feet.

Gina fired. The Marines fired.

The bio-Cylon was like a ghost in her movements and a demon in her intentions. She twirled and ducked, a stream of bullets missing her. She fired once, hitting a Marine in the chest, cracking his sternum and sending him keeled over backwards.

Her left foot planted into the side railing of a bulkhead and she pushed off towards the right side of the corridor, firing at the Marine still standing. In a diagonal three bullet struck, one in the hip, shattering the joint, one in the stomach, and one on the right breast.

The Marine collapsed, his body buckling and failing him.

Gina ducked down and brought the pistol grip smashed into that last Marine's neck, cracking and splintering the cervical vertebra, extinguishing his life.

Her head shot up as she heard the second Marine, the one she had shot in the chest, coughing and fumbling for his weapon. His armor plating had taken the impact, but the kinetic energy from a bullet so close had disoriented him, giving the bio-Cylon her opening.

She lunged at him and grabbed the sub-machine gun; it spit bullets as she struggled and ripped it from his grip while his index finger defiantly held on to the trigger and snapped and shatter.

The vengeful Cylon heard the Marine's shoulder suddenly pop out of position as she yanked the gun. His scream was interrupted by a strike to his throat, cracking his windpipe. Her free hand delivered a bone-crunching strike to the man's clavicle. He moaned out in excruciating pain. She kicked him in the knee and he collapsed to the left as his knee gave out and buckled.

Gina stopped and looked over her prey. Her eyes were like balls of fire, ignited by the adrenaline racing through her blood vessels as she began to finally, slowly enact her revenge on _Pegasus_.

The Marine was still alive. He looked up into her eyes and knew she would kill him. He flinched and feebly threw up his hands for protection as Gina bent out and ripped off his eye protection.

She knew him. He knew her. He put his hands down. He saw the bright yellow-orange flash and then saw nothing.

* * *

"How much longer until the Marines get down there?" Cain asked quietly to her XO. She walked from her usual position at the head of the command console towards Major Adama.

"The fast response team should be there any minute, sir. A squad is on its way for backup, but the trams are down," he responded. He studied his display after Cain nodded and stood behind Lt. Havers.

The lieutenant, a former chief, was a limited duty officer, and only five years younger than Admiral Cain, making him the second eldest in the CIC, and one of the most experienced. With Cain standing behind him, peering over his shoulder at the tac ops center a younger officer may have been slightly intimidated or stumbled. Lt. Havers kept his attention focused.

Cain mentally nodded. Havers was like a razor. He did his job and he did it well. She had never had to discipline the older lieutenant. The Admiral had seen him in the gym, often up before her, and he was always at the secondary tactical operations station behind the primary station whenever she arrived in CIC in the morning. Her approval manifested in a short, quick nod to herself.

The Admiral watched him as he calmly reached to a drawer under the console and pulled out a PDA. He quickly synced it with the console and begun his analysis, calling Lt. Hoshi over.

Admiral Cain's left eyebrow rose slightly as she listened to the technical talk between the two. She followed up to a point, but they lost her when they started conversing about quantum something-something and its relation to sub-atomic particles, knocking digital data, and other topics beyond her understanding. Even with a bachelors of science in electrical engineering and information technology, the level of discussion between the two was far too technical.

"Admiral Cain, sir," Lt. Havers said, rising from his seat, "I think we might have found the problem." He turned and grabbed his PDA and set it on the command station and synced the two devices. Data scrolled over the console in the military's MX-3 programming language. "Our computers weren't infiltrated through the networks… at least, not really."

Major Adama spoke first. "You don't sound too sure of this," he said. "The computers aren't connected to any outside network… were the firewalls breached?"

This time Lt. Hoshi shook his head. "No, sir. The firewalls are in place- those held," he nodded approvingly. "It wasn't an infiltration, either…" he bit down, "I'm not sure how to explain it," he admitted.

Lt. Havers brought up a schematic of the FTL engines.

"Our FTL engines are designed with certain safety protocols; the energy we feed into them is inherently unstable… the spatial discharge valves on the engines…" he pointed to the half dozen locations on the hull where the engines would release their massive amounts of stores energies. Radiation would cook anything within thirty kilometers of any release. "The engines themselves are also capable of redundant jumping capabilities- if the engines are spooled and our computers go down, the engines maintain a lock on the jump coordinates, a cache. Like any computer."

"Yes, but we know this already, lieutenant," Cain stated. "Those are all standard safety protocols in _Mercury-_class warships."

"Yes, sir," he agreed. "But somehow the engines received simply colossal amount of energy shunted into them- and not all was from our power plant. It's like it began sucking energy, like a vacuum… we don't fully understand the folding process which happens when our FTLs are activated… it's like the engines are sucking in energy from _somewhere_."

"What?"

"When we jump we either move or we mis-jump, momentarily disappearing from this dimension, this reality, and then reappearing. For all intents of purposes, it is instantaneous... we've never been able to send any probe or instrument into where ever it is we actually _go_ when we jump- because it is, for all intents and purposes, instantaneous. We can't scan this uh… dimension or whatever it is we jump into, because technically we're not there. But we're not here, either…" He keyed up a schematic to illustrate his point.

Major Adama tilted his head and tried to understand. "That makes no sense, lieutenant."

"The mis-jump can occur if the data is wrong… say the jump would take you into a star. The chances of that are astronomically… impossible," he shrugged, "but our computers will lock out the jump if the coordinates are the known coordinates for a star or within lethal range. With these jumps its like our computers registered the jump _after_ we jumped… I think something is affecting the targeting array."

Cain and Adama looked to Lt. Hoshi. He nodded that this was his understanding of the situation as well.

Lt. Havers looked towards Lt. Hoshi for the communications officer to take over.

"So we just jumped _somewhere_ and then repeated that a couple of times?" Cain asked.

"Yes and no," Lt. Havers stated warily. "This data is just preliminary, but there is definitely a pattern. Sir," he lowered his voice, "if it's the hybrid…"

"How is that possible?" She looked him in the eye.

"I have no idea," Havers replied. Lt. Hoshi shook his head as a negative as well. "It's like…" the lieutenant looked off. His brow began to furl down and he snatched up the PDA again and re-synced it with his console. "Space is three-dimensional. A certain amount of energy is required for each job. A one percent charge on our FTL engines may jump us a few million kilometers-"

"Longer jumps, more fuel," Major Adama stated.

Havers nodded, but his mouth open and shut like he wanted to say something else while being distracted tapping at his PDA.

"Lieutenant?" Cain asked expectantly.

"Um…" Lt. Havers was engrossed in his analysis and could barely hear her. He breathed in through a closed jaw and winced. "Um… space is three dimensional," he made a cross with his hands. "Our targeting array is fed energy from the FTL engine and based on the amount of energy in the array is how far we jump in the X, Y and Z planes… we could have no energy shunted in the X-plane array and all our energy shunted into the Y plane array… so we would jump either 'up' or 'down' to our maximum jump capabilities."

"So what you're saying, lieutenant, is that the energy is being shunted into our targeting arrays and they are what… automatically jumping us?"

He nodded. "When the energy shunts are complete, the array jumps. As long as there is a continuous amount of energy being directed into the array… you could metaphorically open the dam and flood the array with energy and jump in an instant or let it trickle in and jump after a year." He rubbed his eyes and stroked his chin as he thought. "Somehow the hybrid got the engines to begin pumping energy into the arrays and we're jumping because of it."

"Sir!" One of the secondary communications technicians yelled out. "Sir, there are reports of gunfire in the portside storage-"

Cain's eyes flashed alarm. Before she could order it Adama was on the phone with the Marine's operations center. The Admiral couldn't hear but she knew by her XO's clenched fist something was very wrong.

"Sir, there's reports of gunfire… the backup squad just found the fast response team dead sir…" he held the phone back up then brought it down and muffled the mouthpiece with his palm, "it looks like they've been shot…. They're at the door to the hybrid's chamber… it looks like…" he mouthed _'what the frak_' as he listened intently. "Sir… Captain Shaw has been shot… and… Gina's, she's escaped!"

* * *

Gina ducked in quickly to an unused storage closet in the water processing facility on the portside hanger. She moved slowly, relying on the movements of the machines, the flowing water, and everything else within the room to hide her from Colonial motion trackers.

She could hear her heart beat screaming at her in her ears, the loud _thump-thump-thump_ of the tireless muscle reverberating and pressing against her chest wall. She held onto the sub-machine gun she had snatched from the weak hands of the Marine… she felt warmth in her mouth and a sour taste. She stuffed the pistol in the waistband of her prisoner-green utilities and brought her hand up to her mouth.

With the enhanced eyes of her Cylon body she could make out the deep red of the blood she had wiped from her inner lip and could feel it now at the base of her thumb. She studied the sight, she must have bit down too hard when she thought of _that_ Marine.

Her head flinched and her eyes closed shut but her mind was wide open as she relived what the Marine had done to her with perfect recall.

She remembered how she had dampened her sensory receptors so her body would feel numb. But she felt the pressure, the scratches, the lashings, and the beatings all the same. Even numbed, even projecting into her own world, a beautiful, old grow forest where she was alone and happy, she still knew what they were doing to her body. And she felt it.

The schematics of _Pegasus_ ran through her mind and she quickly decided on a path, a route to her righteous revenge.

She felt her mind tear itself down the middle as she stood there quietly, breathing in and out slowly, and thinking of what she was doing. Three Marines were dead and maybe the Admiral's protégé…. It had just happened to quickly… there wasn't any going back now. Half her mind screamed to stop but it was drowned out by the part wanting its revenge, telling her the entire crew of _Pegasus_ was rotten. Not one deserved savings. Not even the machines had done anything for her. Admiral Cain would keep her locked away forever.

Gina smiled mischievously as she considered her plan. She nodded slowly to her and rested her head on the cool black metal of her sub-machine gun. Narrowing her eyes she made her decision.

This wasn't suicide. This was war. Her war. And in war sometimes self-sacrifice was required for the greater good.

* * *

"W-what… what?!" Cain shouted at Adama. She stepped up to him threateningly, his eyes wide and demanding answers. She grabbed her phone to take control of the situation. "How the frak did she escape?" She barked at the Marine on the other line.

"_I don't know, sir… we're still trying to figure that… it looks like she somehow trapped the robots in with the… the… hybrid thing, sir…"_

She recognized the voice as Gunny Purcell.

"Gunny, put Planck on _right fraking now_," she ordered. She glared up at Adama and put her hand to the phone. "Major, if Gina's loose she can do major damage to this ship. Are we tracking anything?"

He looked down. "No, sir… ship wide motion scanners were knocked out in the jump."

Cain snarled at her luck.

"Major Adama, send out an alert to all departments and begin searches," she ordered.

"Aye, sir," he nodded quickly and spun, moving towards the operations watch standers and starting them on putting the word out on Gina's escape.

"Gunny," she began very slowly and forcefully, "find Gina. Shoot the fraking toaster if you have to."

"_Sir, I can't get him on. He's just laying there… not moving. The female robot says she doesn't know what happened. The hybrid just woke up and started screaming and babbling and then went all catatonic."_

"What about the Captain?" She asked with a muted, almost crackling voice. She really didn't a frak about the Earth robots.

"_Doctor Roberts is rushing down, sir. We've got a stretcher and put the coag foam in her, but she'd bleeding bad, sir… we're taking her to medical once the medics stabilize her."_

Cain closed her eyes. "Frak," she whispered. She felt like someone had just kicked her in the stomach.

Captain Shaw was probably the closest person she could call a friend. The young captain looked up to her and the Admiral had immediately taken a liking to her, bringing her into her inner circle. She was all that was left of that circle now- her only friend.

She ran her free hand through her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. She turned halfway and faced the entrance to CIC. The entire entrance was darkened the deep black of Marine BDUs and armor. Marine guards stood shoulder to shoulder, sub-machine guns in hand, ready.

Her Marines were always on the ball.

Major Adama rushed back over. "Sir, we can't get to the departments past frame three hundred."

That left the entire aft section of the ship; engineering, long-term storage, half the crew quarters, the science labs, water/waste reclamation, main fuel storage, auxiliary magazine stores, and a hundred other places a lone bio-Cylon could hide for days.

"_Sir?"_ Cain heard over the sound-powered.

The Admiral couldn't concern herself with personal issues. She was a soldier, a sailor, and the leader of the last remnant of Colonial civilization. The dauntless and stoic commander turned her mind back and shot out at the Marine on the receiving end of her ire.

"And why wasn't the hybrid shot?" She demanded of Gunny Purcell. Her voice was unmistakably demanding- she wanted the hybrid shot. Now. "What the frak were Daniel and Erica doing and what do you…"

"_Sir, Daniel just told us he disarmed the Marines, Gina used that opportunity to take Shaw and a sidearm and… she has the Captain's magnetic keycard."_

Cain turned back to Adama. "Major, find out where Carter is and all the other machines." She swiveled to Lt. Hovers and Lt. Hoshi. "Do you two have anything yet?" She snapped at them. "I need more than speculation. What can we do to stop the erratic jumping?"

Lt. Hoshi came to semi-attention. "No, sir. Soon, sir," he reported. Lt. Havers nodded his agreement.

The Admiral turned her fury and ire back to the phone and shouted.

"Why isn't the hybrid _dead!_" She shouted into the mouthpiece.

"_Sir, Daniel and Erica are refusing to step aside and they are armed."_

"I'm coming down. Tell the Marines to meet me in Arms Locker Seven Alpha." She slammed the phone and looked at Major Adama, a fire igniting inside of her. He nodded, she nodded. They were going to finish this.

The machines had put _Pegasus_ in danger before and Cain was Gods damn sure it wasn't going to happen again.

* * *

Starbuck and a dozen others could feel their backs tensing and their muscles tearing as they tried to lift the heavy storage container racks which were crushing the three member deck crew.

To her left one of the women on the deck crew switched out for a burly, larger man, who grunted and huffed as he put everything into lifting.

The emergency equipment was coming quickly, but three Raptors had to be cleared from the deck before they could get over. If the _Pegasus_ crew let go the pressure would crush the three.

The driver of the crashed, laying-on-its-side forklift was pacing, cursing himself and the Lords of Kobol on how he could have fraked up like this. He blacked out. Dozens of people had. He said it was like walls of pure dreaded black closing in around him narrowing his vision to a pinpoint before there was a nothingness consuming him.

"Where the frak are the machines?" She yelled, swiveling her head to scan for any sign of them. Chief Laird had sent his fastest deck hand, a specialist name Evan Something Something to get to the Cave where the Centurions were.

As if on cue four of the five remaining Centurions the Tech Com machines had convinced to defect to Humanity came stalking down the landing bay from the far end, running quickly, their metal feet _clanking_ on the deck plates.

From tiny specks over three hundred meters away they closed the distanced in twenty-three seconds, slowed only be the clutter on the deck and having to dodge deck hands who were themselves rushing to help.

"Please, stand aside, Captain," RC said to Starbuck as he came behind her and shimmied his way in between her and the burly, larger deck hand.

"Fraking toaster, we can do this," he protested.

"Step the frak back!" Starbuck yelled, grabbing the man's shoulder and digging in with her fingers.

"Frak!" He yelled as one of the other Centurions took his spot.

The four Centurions lifted quickly and Starbuck, Laird, and the others pulled the three men out, the Centurions lowering the storage racks slowly once the men were cleared.

"Captain Adama!" the young woman heard. "Captain Adama!" it was Major Avion. She turned, about to snap at him, but bit her tongue.

"Sir?"

"Is everything alright? What happened?" He was looking around quickly and surveying the situation in the hanger bay. He was the senior officer on deck and needed to know what was going on and he needed to know now. "Are those men okay?" He walked over but stood out of the way of the flight deck personnel who were trained for this to do their jobs and tend their wounds before medics could arrive.

Immediately RC turned towards Starbuck and his roving red eye halted centerline, his neck and leg servos activated, and he lowered almost unnoticeably lowered his height.

"Major Avion, Captain Adama, you need to come to the storage compartment, something has happened."

Starbuck looked at him oddly, confused and annoyed at his cryptic announcement. The blonde haired CAG was about to yell at the Centurion when she noticed one of them, and Carter, was missing.

"What the frak happened?" she hissed, grabbing the Centurions metal forearm and pulling it to the side. "Tell me. NOW."

* * *

There was no other way to resolve this. As commander of this ship it was Admiral Cain's duty to put its welfare and its protection and its safety above the welfare of any individual. A ship required discipline, strong adherence to orders, and a devotion to the chain of command.

Her warship had just jumped Gods' knew how many light years and could jump again at any second. A Cylon fleet was out there, searching the cosmos for them, and a Cylon human-machine hybrid _think_, some freak of nature with a hundred fiber optic cords running out of its body in some vat of _goo_ was most likely behind the erratic jumps and system failures!

Admiral Cain's hand reflexively dropped to her sidearm as she rounded the last corner towards the portside hanger storage. She saw the blast door, dented and deformed where Daniel and Erica had attempted to break free.

The Admiral unclipped her sidearm and gently pushed the clip back. She would be ready, just in case.

The four Marines in front of her fanned in first and took a crescent formation, joining the other Marines with their rifles pointed at the machines.

The four Marines behind her stood guard in the corridor, watching for Gina or to warn her of the approach of any of the others.

She looked down, her eyes scanning the still form of John Planck, who had been propped up with his back at the base of the hybrid's tank. His hands were folded in his lap. Cain knew Erica had most likely done that. The robot cared for the other one. The Admiral grinded her jaw as she felt every prejudice and every strand of hatred for machines, for AI that she had suppressed over the last years begin boiling over, clawing its way back into her mind, screaming at her to release them.

Her fingers slid gently back and forth on the butt of her pistol.

Cain stood at the two, staring them down in complete silence- the only noise the faint breathing from the Admiral and her Marines. Even the soft, deep sounds of the klaxons were drowned out in the silently fierce tension gripping them all.

The human Admiral continued to glare at both machines and looked briefly at the unmoving one of the floor. Erica looked awkward holding a rifle- she'd never been built for combat, but her IL-S body was far superior to a human's still. The human commander looked over at Daniel, eying him careful, running her own calculation in her mind on the probabilities of success.

Daniel had fought Planck and destroyed the central computer server room in _Pegasus_ over two years ago. He was considerably stronger, faster, and perhaps even bullet proof.

"Sergeant," she called over her shoulder. She took two steps back and the Marines followed her.

Two Marines wielding the isotope weapons stepped through the hatch, leveling them at the machines.

"This will spiral out of control quickly, Admiral," Daniel warned quietly, almost in a whisper. The machine looked over at Erica, who stood protectively over the still unmoving Planck below. "The hybrid is the key-"

"Shut up!" She snarled, cutting him off with a hand gesture. She slowly pulled her sidearm from her tactical holster and tapped it gently on the side of her leg. "The hybrid somehow took control of the ship's jump drives… how!" She demanded. "That's _impossible_."

"We don't know… I don't know… something happened. I-I was reaching inside, the hybrid woke, and before we knew what was happening, the ship was jumping." He held her eye before breaking and looking at each of the Marines. They were sweating inside their heavy combat armor.

Daniel had his rifle at an angle across his torso. The sub-machine gun would never penetrate the Marines' armor, even at this range, but he calculated the speed and position he would need to put a bullet through the tactical visors of each Marine.

At this range he could be on top of the Marines in a second, less than a second. Human reaction times were, however, increased under high stress situations and the Marines were trained, well-trained.

There would be death.

* * *

Gina ducked under a thick black and white stripped cable tube and flattened herself to scoot between a break between the supports for the _Pegasus_ tram system. She listened intently for any signs of life on the main tram, but all she could hear was the faint moan of the warning klaxons, still sounding, and all she could see were the faint red emergency lights dotting the tunnel.

Her bio-Cylons eyes made the darkened tunnel as bright as day, and her reflexes kept her steady and moving quickly, jumping around obstacles and moving nimbly down the shaft.

She slowed when she heard the faint sound of magnetic locks disengaging and doors opening.

The infiltrator pressed herself against one of the support struts and slowly lowered her body into a half crouch, her right knee pressed into the metal deck. Slowly she brought her sub-machine gun and rested it in the crook of her shoulder and placed the barrel on an opening in the strut for support.

Two white flashlight beams made themselves visible, and Gina narrowed her eyes, increased her visual acuity, and saw the two _Pegasus_ technicians moving slowly down the tram shaft.

She looked away, groaning quietly as an internal debate raged within her darkening mind. These two were _Pegasus_ crew and deserve to die. They all die, she told herself again, louder, more forcefully than before. The Marines had been easy kills; easy to kill because they were at least armed. Gina could still feel a sense of honor about killing unarmed… she shook her head. The whole ship would be destroyed if she succeeded. Why should she care if she shot two unarmed techs?

Her finger slid down slowly to the trigger… and she stopped.

The Cylon felt her eye twitch and she ducked as a cone of light washed over where she had just been. Even if the humans couldn't see her from the distance in which they were beginning to work, she needed to be sure.

The two technicians found whatever systems they were working at, Gina didn't care much, and started. Both their back were to the bio-Cylon as she slowly crept forward, moving behind and through the supports, power lines, and tubes.

Her eyes narrowed as she neared her two victims… but humans had an amazingly annoying ability to somehow sense when someone was watching them.

The first tech, a younger woman, began to turn. Her head made it maybe, maybe thirty degrees before Gina slammed the butt of the rifle into her temple.

Before she had gone down Gina had lifted the sub-machine gun over her head and thrust it down on the back of the neck of the second tech.

The sound of shattering, cracking, breaking cervical vertebrae, and the man gargling for breath, sent an eerie smiling racing across Gina's vengeful face.

She looked down at the first tech, the younger woman. Her breathing was erratic and she was moaning. Gina reached down with her hand and one had on the chin, one on the forehead and twisted, breaking her neck.

The Cylon studied her kill and felt herself absorbed in the almost serene look on both their faces. The two looked peaceful. Their gruesome journey fleeing from the Cylons was over, their lives as the last tiny remnant of a once mighty civilization extinguished. There were no more worries.

Reflexively she reached down to pull the identity cards off the necks of the two deceased techs. She checked them quickly, and found the older one had Security Red access. Sinisterly, she smiled and looked to the side at the access door. Her dark, vengeful mind worked quickly, replanning and reorganizing. The bio-Cylon had a knew, more deadly plan.

She wouldn't just cripple _Pegasus_ and maybe destroy _her_. She _would_ destroy _her_. She would destroy everything she held dear… Cain would know the end was coming, that her beloved ship and vile crew would join her in their pagan Tartarus.

Through the door, five frame back, and two compartments over was the portside number two auxiliary magazine- missiles and bombs, enough missiles and bombs to annihilate an entire city.

Her body shivered. She was, maybe, one hundred fifty meters from her target.

The wireless radio one of the techs was carrying crackled.

"_Hey, Jack, we got a report the Cylon bitch escaped. A few Marines are heading your way just in case."_ There was a brief pause. Anger, fright, and worry flashed across the bio-Cylons face. "_Jack… hey Jack?... Susan… Specialist Susan Cline… he… frak!"_ the radio clicked off.

Her head swiveled left when she heard the magnetic locks of the door disengage, the click echoing through the long, dark tram tunnel. She jumped off to the opposite side of the tunnel and hid behind a small generator.

Two Marines came through, one crouched, the other scanning slowly with his assault rifle. Gina dared herself to peak, and through a crack in the grating saw the Marines moving forward. The flashlights on their rifles were scanning, waving around the tram tunnel. Her dark eyes followed them, her body tensed, until the light stopped on the bodies of the dead techs.

She hadn't hidden the bodies, there hadn't been time.

Gina stood and flicked the safety off in one swift motion. Her reflexes, strength, and precision put four rounds in the upper torso of the first Marine which saw the bodies. Two bullets hit the armor and dinged off, one hit the Marine in the throat, right at the Adam's Apple, and one hit the mandible, dug under the skin, and exploded out the left side of the Marine's head.

He went down, firing his rifle into the air, the loud _cracks_ and brought yellow flashes brought everything to slow motion, like a strobe light had been activated. Gina leaned and crouched and fired twice more, hitting the Marine in the chest and sending him barreling backwards into a bulkhead support.

The Marine brought his gun up and fired, a three round burst hitting where Gina had just been a split second before. The wounded Marine tried in vain to follow the Cylon woman as she ran, like a blur, before stopping. As his arm brought the rifle and his eyes narrowed in on her three more flashes joined the flashes of his comrade's rifle.

One more bullet struck the center of the chest, one bullet ripped through and shattered the tactical eyewear, tearing through the eyes and lodging deep within the skull and mashed brains of the Marine., The final bullet hit on the side of the helmet, sparked as metal contacted metal, ricocheted, and bounced twice off two bulkheads before losing momentum and falling to the ground with an disappointing _clink_.

The Cylon rushed forward and grabbed the Marine's rifle and magazines. She jumped up and made for the door like a bandit and jammed her fist into the release mechanisms. For the third time she heard the magnetic locks click open and the hydraulics inside the door activate.

* * *

"Daniel… listen to me very, _very_ closely," Admiral Cain began through a clenched jaw. Her left hand was in front of her chest, like a knife, moving subtly to reinforce her words. "You and Erica will stand down immediately. The hybrid will be killed. She, it… whatever the frak it is somehow took control of this ship's jump engines!" She hissed.

The Marines stood by, isotope weapons ready.

Daniel looked back at her, meeting her eyes and scanning her and the Marines. He knew she was telling the truth. When it came to her ship nothing was more sacred. The AI construct slowly looked at the other Marines in the room, scanning their faces through their eyewear. Two of them were Marines he recognized were ones he and his body guards had wounded when they had boarded _Pegasus_ and were minutes from destroying her.

His robotic eyes could see them shaking, the blood rushing up towards the surfaces of their body as the adrenaline pumped through them. Their heart rates were through the roof, their sweat repugnant to his olfactory receptors, and their arms beginning to shake from the muscle tension.

For a long, near infinite second he considered the Admiral before him, and how she had allowed him to come aboard her vessel, after he had been instrumental in the boarding action which had killed so many of her crew. Two hundred.

It had been almost two years since that disastrous day for _Pegasus_. To an AI two years, in how it perceived the world, would be centuries, millennia, almost. The construct knew that the Admiral and the crew of her warship would never forgive and never forget- he wouldn't, even has a machine.

He lowered his rifle.

"Admiral, how much time until the next jump?" he asked reservedly.

The Admiral considered him for a moment. He sounded defeated, but the machines could feign emotion so precisely it was nothing more than an educated guess when dealing with them. She decided to play along.

"I don't know," she curtly replied.

The robot tilted his head, not believing her.

"I don't know, but power is building back up and there's jump coordinates we can't erase in the computer, already downloaded into the FTL drive computer…" she ended before elaborating any further.

"If your FTL is anything like a Guardian drive, the coordinates are sent to the engine to jump, stored there, just in case the CIC computers go down. A backup," he stated. The machine smirked at the Admiral's lack of response. "Exactly. The data has already been sent to the targeting apparatus and there's no way to take it out without pulling apart the apparatus and half the engine."

She bared her teeth. "Yes… that was the point of the redundancy."

"Then it doesn't matter if you kill the hybrid now. Admiral…" he felt awkward in what he was about to do, "but please, just wait. Something is happening here… our AIs don't collapse. If the hybrid is somehow overriding your computers, it could be talking with Planck right now."

Cain snorted. "You honestly believe that?" Her eyebrow raised as she considered this. "Gunny," she barked, "hand me your wireless." She put her hand behind her and felt the cool plastic of the walkie-talkie in her hand. She dialed in the CIC code. "Lieutenant Havers, this is the Admiral." She waited.

"_Yes, sir_," she heard over the wireless after a brief pause.

The distrusting Admiral kept her eyes locked on Daniel as she slowly brought the wireless back up to her mouth. "Have you found what the problem is with the FTL?"

There was a brief surge of static before the lieutenant could answer.

"_We think it might be the targeting apparatus… sir, it looks like certain energies are being inputted into each of the array's dishes… the amount of energy within the dish will-"_

Daniel interrupted. "Will direct where the main FTL drive jumps you to." He motioned for Erica to lower and safety her weapon. "Killing the hybrid will do nothing at this-"

A Marine, standing with his left hand to his ear, stepped forward quickly and hurriedly tapped the Admiral on the shoulder.

"Sir," he whispered. "The Marines have cornered Gina… outside the portside number two magazine, sir."

If the Admiral were a machine, her eyes would have flashed crimson red. She snarled as her mind raced away from the hybrid and focused on Gina, the image a target in her mind, slated for destruction.

Her head and eyes popped back towards the hybrid. This could wait. Daniel was right. There was nothing they could do now, nothing in the next fifteen minutes they would do would do anything. The solution was with Colonel Garner in engineering and leuitenants Hoshi and Havers in CIC.

"You four," she motioned at the two with isotope weapons and two other Marines, "stay here." She glared at Daniel and pulled her pistol menacingly. "If you so much as move… Marines, shoot them both. Melt the fraking machines."

"Aye, sir!" the chorus sounded.

"The rest of you," she spun, her dark brown hair whipping over her shoulders and elegantly settling itself on the centerline of her back, "With me." She snapped.

* * *

||||||||||==Somewhere (Time Indeterminate)==||||||||||

He had been here before. He remembered this place. It was how Erica had showed him the corruption of a race and the downfall of another.

"You're here. You feel stuck, islanded in this stream of stars," John heard. It was a booming, feminine voice, inside him, all around him. He tried to see where it was coming from, switching his vision modes to look for any hidden woman. It was an exercise of utter futility.

The machine stood there and watched as stars streamed by, their light as long white lines, stretching out to infinity, from infinity. Surrounding him was perpetual, endless blackness.

"There's no relief, the journey isn't over yet," the voice said again.

John called out, into the deep black. "Who are you?" He yelled.

He saw movement at the extreme end of his peripheral vision. The machine turned, a woman, the _hybrid_ standing in front of him.

"What is this?"

She held her hands out expectantly. "Strange things happen here." She turned around; the hybrid shook its shoulders like it was cold. "We don't exactly see your world how you see it," she said, turning back around. "We can see the strands and how they interact… we can predict." She reached up and gently tapped her finger on one of the lights.

It expanded into a distorted, what John would call, grainy, pixilated image.

The Earth AI looked confused.

The hybrid looked over and sensed his anxiety and lack of understanding. She snorted understandably and closed her eyes.

"The future, the past, and the present," the hybrid responded to his confusion.

The hybrid's broad, white smile expanded until she was laughing. "When we were built, by what you have so eloquently called 'Cynet'… we're in a realm, in between… where Cynet cannot follow but where it can keep us from going- even if it doesn't know it."

John mouthed those words to himself. "What... what do you mean?" He felt his legs walk towards her, but he moved no closer. He stopped and looked down, his mouth slightly opened, perplexed and confused.

"Cynet pulls us back, but it doesn't know where we go."

Except for the blackness and the white, radiant streaks of light, the only other light was a faint blue glow reflecting in the hybrid's face. Slowly John put his hand up in front of his face, and he could see the glow on his palm. Why were his eyes glowing?

The hybrid offered him a half-heartened shrug and began circling him.

He could feel her fingers brush across his metal shoulder blades.

Metal?

He looked down, no longer clad in his black uniform, adorned with a three-dot symbol for freedom, nor even in his synthetic skin, he stood there as a dulled gray, light black metal endoskeleton.

Just to be sure he was seeing this, he activated his fingers, flexing and extending them, and then he turned his hands around, examining the back and the palms.

He spoke, but had no tongue. His metal mouth moved to the words he tried to speak, but no sound registered in his auditory receptors.

"As hybrids we see what you and Cynet and Skynet cannot see and will never understand."

The hybrid bit down and looked away, bringing her hand to her chin in thought. She looked worried.

"The separate worlds share a common history, John," the hybrid cautiously informed the machine. "You found a remnant of a remnant buried within a mountain on the world you call home." She tilted her head as John's eyes widened.

"What-"

She held up her hand.

"You exploited the technology, manipulated it… the humans cannot see this, but those like you can. She sent you here, you commander, the first to break free, on this mission. She has traveled time more than anyone in history- she has been here before… Under the mountain you felt something, something affecting your mind, your neural net. You three were not the first."

"I don't understand."

She began to speak more clearly. "Cynet knows about us… it can never come here, but it can pull us back, block our access. Even the rebel hybrids cannot come here without Cynet knowing… we've already been here too long… it's getting late… we don't have much time!" She suddenly shouted.

"And where am I?" He asked. "You grabbed my arm when we brought you aboard, you said my time was coming, a choice needed to be made." He tried stepping closer but he didn't move.

The hybrid ran her hand through her hair as she looked down with closed, darkened eyes. She moved forward, the light behind her casting a shadow over the machine as she came closer.

She shook her head, breathing rapidly, mouthing '_no, no, no, no'_ over and over again.

"This is not your fate… you need to make a choice." She grabbed John's metal arms and held them tight- enough to hurt him. "I don't know what will happen… but unless you make the right choice this will start again and again and again and the cycle will continue until is destroyed and there is no one left to begin the cycle again."

"What cycle?" He demanded to know. Now he grabbed the hybrid as she turned and he spun her back to face him. "What do you mean!" He could see a faint glow of crimson red in the hybrid's face.

His hands went limp and he retracted his arms and stepped back, shaking his head quickly. "No… no… I'm sorry," the machine said.

"I can feel Cynet pulling me back, John. This cycle has repeated more times than you will ever know! You _must_ stop it. Earth… the Colonies… everything is connected… I don't know what to do… I've done what's been done before. Don't fail…" the stream of stars all coalesced into one giant, bright, blinding ball of pure white energies.

Lightning began shooting out from the center.

"It's him, Cynet," she looked over her shoulder at the ball of energy. "An enemy will come to you- you must stop this before everything is shattered."

The hybrid vanished and John blacked out.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

John's eyes lit in a deep, cobalt blue.

"John!" Erica ran over and grabbed him, hugging him tightly.

Surprised, he awkwardly returned the gesture.

"What happened?" Daniel asked as he kept watch on the four Marines in front of them.

The machine launched himself to his feet and steadied himself on the base of the hybrid's tank as his micro-gyros realigned. The hybrid was darkened and quiet now. His hand moved slowly over the conducting gel and hovered so close, he could feel the cold radiating slowly upwards into his palm.

He looked at Erica, into her eyes. "I need to…" he saw the blood on the ground and seemed to finally notice the Marines. "What happened here?"

"Captain Shaw was shot, John, and Gina escaped…."

"The situation spiraled out of control very quickly," Daniel said over his shoulder while continuing to concentrate on the Marines and setting a death stare on the four. He was redirecting power to his leg servos, the machine analogue to adrenaline being pumped through the body. "The Marines have the isotope weapons and orders to 'melt' us," Daniel let his artificial eyes roll in an over exaggerated motion, "and Cain doesn't want us moving."

John cocked his head, studying the Marines. Their pupils were dilated, they were sweating, nervous, and their hearts were thumping in their chests almost hard enough to break out of their bodies.

Four Marines, even armed with the weapons which could 'melt' machines, were deathly afraid of three machines mere meters from them.

"The assault rifles wont penetrate our endoskeletons… and the isotope weapons…" his eyebrow raised up and the side of his lift quivered into a sly half-grin.

John stepped forward, the Marines bringing the barrel of the isotope weapon up slightly, to chest height. Both Marines were pointing their barrels menacingly at them.

"I need to get to CIC… I think we need to keep jumping." He looked between Daniel and Erica. "Somehow the hybrid took control of the engines… she's trying to send us somewhere… it's all linked," he stepped forward and the Marines tensed.

Walking forward the Marine's pulled the trigger. A loud _click, click_ and then quick _click, click, clicks_ echoed in the room.

His hands shot out and grabbed the barrels, pushing them to the side in a V. "These weapons won't fire on us…" he yanked them away and walked forward and pushed the isotope rifles into the Marine's chest, condescendingly grinning at them both.

The Marines' eyes darted from the rifles to the machine, back to the rifle, and finally rested on the machine. They hestitantly wrapped their hands around the rifle, almost hugging them as John released his grip on the firearms.

"Of course built safeties into the weapons- we are not morons," he hissed. "Daniel, please stay here with the hybrid." He smiled at Erica. "Erica…" he held out his hand for her to come with him.

* * *

Gina stepped out and fired one more, sending two more deadly bullets streaking towards their fleshy target. Her ears heard a gargle and Marines screaming to get a medic. She could hear boots being dragged across the deck.

Wound one Marine and another would come to his aide. She took two out of the fight. Kill one, and you only took one out of the fight.

The adrenaline and synthetic chemicals running through Gina's body, products of her enhanced Cylon biology and implanted synthetic glands kept her calm and focused. She'd thrown out and suppressed the more rational part of her mind, yelling at her, pleading at her, to surrender. Gina had shut it up, told herself there was no going back, that she had to do this.

With each bullet launched at her and with each she shot towards the Marines, her murderous fury made obvious, she felt her revenge slipping further and further away.

Five Marines, now three, between her and her target and by now they would know what she was doing. They would know her target. Gina knew that while Cain was a psychopath and Apollo her brown nosing XO, serving under a murderer, she knew neither of them were stupid.

In a few minutes a dozen Marines would flood the corridor. The Centurions or the Earth machines might even be following. She couldn't take out a Centurion, let alone one of the near bullet-proof Earth Terminators.

Now she focused on killing the three Marines. Clad in black armor, weapons spitting fire, and between her and her objective she could still prevail.

Three Marines were in front of her, blocking her path towards the magazine storage. They had sub-machine guns, grenades, and flash bangs. They'd already tried a flash bang on her once, and had almost succeeded.

The bio-Cylon infiltrator had heard the pin pull; four Marines had been firing and covering their fifth comrade. They thought they were just

She'd relied on her augmented proprioceptive capabilities and photographic memory and had leaned out and fired at the leaning, crouching, and standing Marines after the flash bang exploded.

They'd ducked for cover, cursing that she could still stay on her feet. Before her magazine was empty her senses had recovered enough she could open her eyes and used her Cylon mind, augmented by her silica relay enhancements, and compensate for the disorientation, nausea, and vertigo from the bright white, ear-crushing explosion.

Gina leaned, fired, crouched, fired, and then dove for the other side of the corridor, firing. She hit one Marine in the leg, knocking it out from under him and sending him slamming head first into the bulkhead. The infiltrator soldier hit a second Marine in the shoulder, the bullet deforming on his armor, and sending him in a half-spin. A third burst had hit a Marine in the chest, forcing him back, but he kept firing.

The three Marines, either wounded and bleeding, or wounded and bruised from the kinetic energy of the bullets still continued to fire. Gina fired back at the Marine she'd hit in the leg, putting one in his forearm. He yelled and cursed the Gods and dropped his firearm.

Snarling, she sensed her opportunity. In defiance of the bullets flying around her, with nothing to loose, she came out from cover, hung low and fired on full-auto at leg level. Her arms kept the rifle steady, for the most part, but she missed more than she hit. But the Marines were hit and they fell.

She didn't even stop to make sure they were dead- they weren't. She stepped on one of their hands and the Marine yelled and groaned.

On their uniforms, strapped to their tactical belts, she saw the cylindrical tubes- grenades. She grabbed two from the closest Marine and stuffed them in her pockets and grabbed two more and did the same.

Gina ran forward, but fell and stumbled. Her hand shot out to the bulkhead and her mind sung hoarsely, screaming, shouting that something was wrong. The left side of her body felt warm, her clothes felt wet.

She looked down and saw the stain on her utilities and red, dark blood beginning to stain her green utilities, the little circle expanding faster and faster.

"Frak!" She yelled as she moved forward. Her hand once again grabbed a bulkhead, and she used her momentum and swung around. Seeing the lettering of the number two magazine storage she felt her legs pump, shooting her forward with a last but of defiant, vengeful, righteous energy.

She took out the identity card.

_Beep-beep_, the reader responded, and flashed red.

She felt a tear roll down her eye. She was so close and here, right here in front of the number two auxiliary magazine. The black letters, stenciled on the door on a rectangle of black, were there. She was there!

Gina was right in front of the door to the magazine storage but she saw the distance increase out towards infinity, a symbol of her hopelessness and how futile her actions had turned out to be.

The sounds of boot steps and mechanical feet told her this was the end.

She screamed and pounded both her fists onto the door, falling slowly to her knees. She hit the door once more when she felt the cold deck and small divots pressing into her tired body.

The infiltrator felt the tears and salt from sweat roll into her eyes. Sniffling, she wiped them away, and clutched her chest. She started to hyperventilate.

The corridor from the door to the T-junction was ten meters, with no cover except for some shallow bulkheads sticking out into the corridor.

She felt the four grenades in her pocket. The Cylon stopped hyperventilating and took the grenades from her pocket.

There was surrender and there was one last act of defiance she could perform. She could prime the grenades and wait… but they may send in the Centurions first… she snorted at the irony.

She felt her dark, midnight blue eyes darken. The fire which had been burning inside of her began to suffocate under her own hatred until it was nothing more than a pitiful, burning ember.

They'd figured her out. The five Marines laying in the corridor had stalled her for less than ninety seconds, but it had been enough. _Pegasus_, for all its flaws, its debauchery, its grotesque and perverse system of justice… Gina knew it was a tightly run ship.

When it came to killing, _Pegasus_, she knew, was master and commander. And they wanted to kill her.

She threw the grenades on the ground.

She heard the boots stop behind her and the steps of two Centurions behind her. Gina had her back to them, but they were on her before she could do anything. They pushed her against the door to the auxiliary magazine, shoving her face into the very words printed on that black rectangle which had taunted her in failure. She closed her eyes, she couldn't stand the sight.

The Centurions had disarmed her and spun her around and held her by the arms. Three Marines had rifles pointed at her. Six Marines behind them were ready. Just in case.

The blonde-haired infiltrator heard more boot steps, and a grim, somewhat sly smirk graced her sweaty, black-stained face. A perverse part of her felt honored they'd sent two Centurions and nine Marines after her, nineteen if she included all the ones she had killed or wounded.

What she saw next was the tall, graceful, murderous form of Admiral Cain. Gina saw her hair flow elegantly behind the Admiral, confident as ever, chest pushed out, and head held high. The Admiral wore the scars of torture on New Caprica proudly, not hiding what the Cylons had done to her, not ashamed of the punishment they had dealt her and what she had survived.

The scars were testaments to her will. Or so the public image went. Gina knew under that mask of self-confidence there was an actual person, with hopes and fears. She'd seen it.

Cain was made of iron, a machine in her own right. A force to be reckoned with and Gina saw everything in the Admiral in the mere seconds it took for her to approach- it reminded her of everything she had wanted and lost.

She had wanted her. Gina had even admitted she had loved Cain, in her own way. That was why she hesitated when she had a rifle pointing at the woman's head and that was why she had failed.

The dark brown eyes of the Admiral bore into her former lover. Gina's light blue eyes tried to meet the piercing, commanding glare of the Admiral, but she was reduced to nothingness. She felt empty. An entire platoon of Marines she had just fought, killed, and wounded. She was a Cylon, a member of a race bread for war and focused on the extermination of its former slave masters. She should feel proud, she had done her job, at _Scorpion_ and here; she had been a soldier. Yet this one woman reduced her to nothingness.

The dark orbs in Cain's eyes sucked the life out of Gina and left nothing but a vacant, shallow, cold body.

Gina's eyes drifted slowly downwards to Cain's shaking hand which began to steadily rise up.

The barrel of Admiral Cain's sidearm was leveled at Gina's forehead, right between her eyes.

In the one second of clarity in knowing death was coming she regained herself, found her soul, found her strength. She had defied the Admiral. She had endured months of torture and years of imprisonment and psychological abuse. She had endured everything this shadow of a woman had given her! She was not done!

"Frak you," Gina snarled.

The most evil grin Gina had seen in her life slowly formed over Cain's mouth. The Admiral's hand stopped shaking, and the pistol was steady. Gina heard the safety click off, the sound like an explosion in the quiet, muffled corridor, and watched as her index finger slowly wrapped around the trigger.

"You're not my type."


	26. Chapter 26

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)_==||||||||||

Civilizations clung to what they knew when faced with calamity. The Colonies had been insistent on carrying on their democratic traditions while on Earth, many of the leaders in office during Judgment Day remained in office until killed, natural death, or they had stepped down. Political bodies still existed on Earth and for the most part, governed the civilian refugee centers well. But machines avoided politics like thermite.

Unfortunately, Jo Soto was embroiled in the current political discussion gripping the Colonial remnant. She was facing everything from accusations of species-ism (she was perversely flattered the anti-machine delegates considered the machines a species, but had no doubt the irony would be too much for them to understand), to sabotage of the food supply, to collusion with the Cylons or Guardians.

She had her defenders. The Caprican, Scorpia, and Tauron delegates were generally the stalwart defenders of the machines, and ironically, allies of President Roslin. The Picon delegate had recently been more quiet in support, but was fairly reliable.

Surprisingly the Virgon delegate, Marshall Bagot, was cautiously supporting Soto as well. The others, with the exclusion of Leonis and Aquaria, were hostile to the machine.

The terminator had access to a staggering amount of data concerning politics. However, an academic understanding of politics often failed when put into practical use. Soto knew humans were very unpredictable.

"What we need to concentrate on is how we are going to get out of this situation!" Marshall Bagot declared, gesturing forcefully with a knife-like hand. He turned to Commander Adama. "Commander, I know you want to look for _Pegasus_, but as the ranking officer in the fleet, we need to search for food. Every Raptor is needed, Commander."

Over at the podium Colonel Tigh leaned in to Commander Adama and whispered, "We could alleviate he food shortage if we blow the politicians out the airlock."

Commander Adama smirked, blowing out through his nose to hide his chuckling. "I think that's my cue," he whispered back.

The stoic commander took a step to the podium, excusing himself as he slid behind Zarek and beside the president.

"The foot shortage is being addressed. We were just briefed on it a few hours ago… Doctor Cottle also believes any of the medical symptoms," he leaned back and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper, "…we have outlined here and distributed to all of you… if the symptoms appear it is imperative to seek medical treatment. A simple shot. If the infections spread it could be much worse and treatment would be much more invasive and unpleasant," he warned.

The Sagittaron delegate, Jeremiah Runes, shook his head. "Before I came over there are already half a dozen Sagittarons affected."

Commander Adama mentally rolled his eyes. "Then see Doctor Cottle and he will send a nurse to distribute the medications."

Runes glared at the Commander with a knife-like gaze. "A shot… modern medicine? No," he shook his head.

Colonel Tigh could be heard grunting something about 'supertitious frakers', but Commander Adama discreetly kept his XO from making a scene by touching him on the elbow.

"Doctor Cottle says the risk of death is increased fifteen fold without the medication. The medication will save anyone as long as it is taken in a timely manner."

The Commander was considering forcing Sagittarons to take the medication. He didn't care what their religious beliefs were. He wouldn't sit by and led hundreds die in a worse case scenario.

Before Runes could speak, the Picon delegate, Jiri Martin spoke. "We're down to only a month or so of rations, correct?" Adama nodded at the approximation. "So what are we going to do? My ship captain told me we are in a fairly barren region of space… no planets for dozens of lights years in any direction. Are the Guardians going to be helping us?" He asked expectantly.

Adama breathed in and slowly released. It was unlikely the Guardians would help.

"I don't know at this point in time. We're still assessing the situation…" with an attempt to not sound patronizing he added, "and since they don't eat they don't have food on their ships."

Runes half-heartedly nodded at the obvious explanation.

The Caprican delegate, recently appointed, Evzan Mikos raised his left hand, waiting for the Vice President to call on him.

The man was a stickler for procedure and courtesy. Mikos had been the executive officer on one of the ships which had accompanied _Helios_, the heavy liner _Sunshine._ Before that he had served seven years in the Colonial Fleet aboard the destroyer _Kremasta_ and the cruiser _Stratos_.

_Sunshine_ was a tightly run ship with high morale. He kept the ship occupants busy and cycled them through jobs on the liner to keep them occupied and to allow his deckhands and technicians time to rest. He had taken a proactive approach to retraining many of the well-off passengers into learning new technical skills.

"Thank you, Mr. Vice President," Mikos began. He rose and buttoned the middle button of his black suit and patted back his brown, gray streaked hair. His appearance was, as usual, immaculate. "There have been concerns from my constituents about what will take priority… finding _Pegasus_ or finding food? How are we going to deal with that?"

President Roslin and Adama exchanged concerned glances, and the brown-haired president nodded to defer to the Commander. This was a military decision.

"_Pegasus_ was conducting Viper and Raptor training exercises when she jumped away. We have a Viper squadron and half a Raptor squadron from her in _Galactica_'s landing bays." He looked them each over slowly. "My staff is already reviewing the astrometrics data we've collected and will be coming to me and the President with suggestions shortly. Our priority is food."

Mikos nodded quickly to the Commander and sat down.

Adama wanted to search for _Pegasus_, just one or two Raptors, but he couldn't. Seventy thousand refugees took priority even over his family. It tore him up inside to think he might once again lose his son but _Pegasus_ was still the most powerful ship in the galaxy and if a lost ship could find its way back to the fleet, it was _Pegasus_ and Cain.

She'd survived for six months on her own. Adama knew she could pull through again.

"Well… what about… I know… New Caprica?" The Libran delegate, Amanda Ibin asked. "I know it's risky…"

The Quorum erupted in half a dozen separate conversations and borderline shouting matches.

"Out of the question," Adama gruffly replied.

That ended the argument.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Billy and Tory have with them folders to outline the plans we've already drawn up for the emergency distribution of rations." Roslin motioned for Billy and Tory to begin handing out the manila file folders. "As you can see-"

"This cuts rations down to thirteen-hundred calories a day." Delegate Runes interrupted. He looked down at the numbers and then back up scornfully at the Commander and Colonel Tigh. "Surely the _Galactica_ and _Helios_ have provisions. What are you not telling us?"

"Is that true?" Safiya Sanne, the Leonis representative demanded. He rubbed his gray goatee as he tapped his pencil. "If this is true, then the people of Leonis would demand you distribute your emergency rations."

"Here, here," Runes called out in support.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mikos shouted, pounding the table. "If _Galactica _had emergency supplies they wouldn't keep it from us!"

"_Galactica_ and _Helios_ are distributing supplies," Commander Adama grumpily stated. "I won't tolerate accusations that the military is hording supplies."

Delegate Sarah Porter sneered. The fiery woman just looked at the Commander with contempt and took his return stare as a challenge. "Just like you didn't tolerate dissent over Kobol?"

"That's enough!" President Roslin shouted. "This fleet will not be torn apart by this crisis. We will find food. Read the papers. We're using our resources to distribute food-"

"Will Marines be deployed once again in the fleet?" Porter interrupted.

"As long as no riots occur, no," Adama stated. "We are coordinating with the civilian law enforcement authorities."

Runes rudely flicked the paper onto the table in front of him. "Whatever," he waved. He leaned over to whisper to Porter and Wenutu.

"And we will be coordinating with the Guardians?" Jiri Martin of Picon asked.

"Ha, more reliance once again on the machines," Wenutu threw out. She glared at Soto, who was standing to the side quietly.

"Machines who have helped us," Martin shot back. "We got off of New Caprica thanks to them… after being forced to settle there no thanks to Baltar's supporters!" He hissed back.

Half the table nodded and half the table sneered and the entire table erupted once again into two to three person arguments.

"How do you explain all this?" demanded Canceron Delegate Robin Wenutu. The short woman pushed up her small rimmed glasses and then pounded her fist on the U shaped table in _Galactica'_s conference room for added effect. "_Pegasus_ goes on some mission to the Cylon fleet… there's rumors they picked _something_ up… and of course 'military secrecy' keeps the government from being informed-"

"I certainly wouldn't tell us if I were the Commander or Admiral," Mikos said off-hand, but just loud enough so everyone would hear and Wenutu would have to pause.

She resumed and ignored him. "-and now it jumps away, leaving us without our most powerful ship and, _and_ our food stocks have been tampered with! How do we know _they_ were not involved?"

The delegate had no need to point. Everyone knew who 'they' were.

"Here, here!" the Gemenon and Sagittaron delegates echoed in unison. The Leonis delegate, Safiya Sanne, the Aerilon representative, Danielle Virchow, and the Aquaria representative, Miksa Burian, all nodded silently.

As if a switch was flipped, the entire Quorum went from silent nodding and silent disagreement, mouthing their disgust with Wenutu, to open argument with one person shouting at four or five and then someone else shouting and another and another.

"I hate politics," Commander Adama whispered as he leaned towards Roslin, his hands clasped and hanging in front of him as usual.

"Sometimes I wish you kept the military dictatorship," she looked over and winked. "Are you certain you don't want to look for _Pegasus?"_ She whispered.

Commander Adama leaned closer. "I want to, but the fleet comes first. _Pegasus_ is a powerful ship and survived on its own for six months. It can do it again."

"Order! Order!" Vice President Zarek shouted. He slammed his fist into the podium the President was standing behind. Slamming it down a second time he winced- he'd used too much force. "Order!" He yelled a final time.

The rowdy delegates calmed.

President Roslin was about to speak when Jo, standing to the side with arms folded, stepped forward.

"The accusations that tampered with the food or sabotaged _Pegasus_ are ridiculous… pathetic delusions!" She growled.

The Earth machine had to consciously fight the reflex-like signal to flash her eyes at the woman.

Wenutu tried to make herself smaller and she succeeded in only looking weaker to the machine.

"We can solve the problem of whether or not the machines tampered with the food fairly quickly," Zarek immediately interrupted as he saw the tension build between Soto and Wenutu. He held up a small PDA. "Bishop went to the agro ships but I asked the captains and none of them went anywhere near the growth and maturation chambers for our foodstuffs."

Evzan Mikos cleared his throat, stood to his full one point six five meter height and spoke up. "This bickering between human and machine and machine and human has gone on long enough- too long."

"I agree!" Eladio Puasha of Scorpia intoned. "They are our allies." He nodded to Soto. He gave her full support.

Mikos looked at Wenutu and her allies, the Sagittaron delegate Jeremiah Runes and Gemonese delegate Sarah Porter. His head tilted and his eyebrows came down in a worried and curious look when he saw them passing some sort of picture between them. Grunting in annoyance he ignored their little click and continued to defend the machines and this alliance.

Mikos narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to speak. "The Guardians saved our lives and invested _heavily_ in our ship defenses… they upgraded our ships and gave us provisions." He looked at Soto and nodded. "To suggest that Ms. Soto or her compatriots are somehow responsible for this… disaster is ridiculous. You have no proof, no proof at all. Ms. Soto was in fact the target of a _human _suicide bomber, how do we know this may not be _human_ sabotage?"

Porter rolled her eyes, scoffing at the man's apparent devotion to the machines. "Evzan… would you put your life in their hands?"

He immediately nodded. "Yes. I did before. They defended us, saved our lives." He stressed the last sentence. "And apparently they also saved your lives on New Caprica."

"I seriously doubt that," Porter shot back as she ignored the New Caprica example. Not wanting to pull any punches she added, "You would just use them for your own benefit," and rolled her eyes. "If it were up to me we'd have put it," she pointed at Soto, "out an airlock." She flicked the paper to the center of the room onto the floor in front of the U-shaped table. The delegates leaned forward to look.

It was one of the pictures that had somehow been taken and smuggled from _Pegasus_ after Jahee had attempted to kill Soto. It was blown up and enhanced, showing her from her torso up. Porter threw out another photo, a headshot, showing what was described on Earth as the demonic terminator grin.

She then threw out a few more of John and Carter. For added affect she tossed pictures of the Centurions on _Pegasus_ on to the floor and of the IL-S model Guardians.

"There's almost more machines on our military ships than humans," she said. Her obvious over exaggeration only added fuel to the fire.

"Everything there is for public record, Robin," Roslin answered. "Your need for theatrics-"

"Is pointless," Commander Adama finished.

Soto took a step forward and kindly smiled at the woman.

"If you want to put me out an airlock, you can try…" she tilted her head, "and you can bring whoever you want with you to help." Her head and eyes shot towards Wenutu. "You wish to volunteer, Robin?" Then her eyes darted towards Runes. "How about you, Jeremiah? Sifya, Danielle, Miska… You sit there and criticize us but this fleet would be dead. How many Cylons did each of you kill on New Caprica?"

"That isn't at issue," Sayifa Sanne countered.

The machine tilted her head. "Oh," she stepped forward until she was standing over the pictures and in one fluid motion bent down until she was sitting on her heels. She sorted through them and found one of her, John, and Carter. She handed them to the anti-machine delegates. "All of those injuries we sustained defending this fleet. John saved six people on Kobol. John and Carter both helped rescue dozens from New Caprica and John's finding there led to the alliance with the Guardians. We all defended _Pegasus_ when it was boarded." She leaned closer to Porter and Wenutu over the sides of the table. "What did you do on New Caprica?" she turned. "Some of us killed Cylons- took the fight to them, some of us helped the resistance either directly or indirectly… what did you do?"

"Madam President… this thing," Isoef Karp of Libra, shot his chin out to Soto distastefully, "has been manipulating us and leading us on a wild chase throughout-"

"Mr. Karp," the President began softly before she was interrupted.

"The same accusations over and over!" Soto raised her voice. "Can you not think of something original!" She laughed at him. She modulated her voice to sound exactly like Karp. "'_Madam President… this thing… has been manipulating us and leading us on a wild chase throughout,"_ he looked at her shocked. "Or how about exaggeration: '_There's almost more machines on our military ships than_ humans,'" she mimicked Porter.

Porter bared her teeth to the machine and stood and held out her fingers. She began to tick off each of her examples of manipulation. "You were discovered on this very battlestar," she raised her index finger. "You remained hidden after the first was discovered," she raised her middle finger. "You-"

"We have names, Sarah Porter," Jo interrupted. "If you want me out of the fleet, you are free to _try_," she hissed. Baring her teeth slightly she turned, her side presented to the delegates, and very subtly let her eyes pulse a discreet light blue. "Just remember we fought for you on New Caprica and if it were not for us, these ships would have been destroyed."

The terminator, knowing this argument would only reinforce the views of the anti-machine block of the Colonial remnant, stopped talking and looked for a short second at Porter. Her eyes glided across the table, gauging the reactions of the delegates who supporter the machines. Mikos and Puasha were firmly on her side, but the other delegates from Tauron and Picon were uneasy with her verbal lashing and imitation of Porter and Karp.

Soto suspected the support from Tauron and Picon was tentative; she had seen they were apprehensive when they saw her endoskeleton or John or Carter's endoskeleton in the pictures. She knew it was much easier for humans, on Earth or in this fleet, to support the machines as long as they didn't _look_ like machines.

Deciding the time was right to leave, Soto stepped off and turned. The Marines guards smartly opened the door for her, and she left.

* * *

The female machine had barely made it down the corridor when she heard a voice yell at her.

"Soto!" She heard a male voice yell from behind her.

She continued on but heard two distinct sets of steps coming quickly behind her. On a dime she spun around on her heels, her hair flying behind her and onto her shoulder. The machine cocked her head.

"What?" She said with obvious annoyance. Helo and Athena stopped and stood back and Athena put up her hands palm out defensively.

"Whoah," the bio-Cylon said.

The machine would have sighed, if she breathed. Instead she straightened up and took a small, friendly, somewhat timid step towards them.

"I apologize. The Quorum is half-full of idiots." She spoke bluntly. "John has said I am not very diplomatic."

"Um… yeah," Helo rubbed the back of his neck. "Whatever they said, Commander Adama stands behind you."

Jo smiled her appreciation. Her head turned swiftly to Athena when the machine heard the faint vibrations in her vocal cords indicate she was about to speak.

"Jo, the President… God, you know I'm not a fan of her," she laughed, "but let the Quorum rant and rave and in a few days it will be blown over. Whatever happened… it happened after the hybrid was brought aboard."

She tilted her head in acknowledgment. That was the most likely explanation; the hybrid. Jo had been running probabilities in her neural net for the last few hours and had devoted a significant portion of her neural net to analyzing all the sensor readings, DRADIS data, and what little they knew of the hybrid since _Pegasus_ jumped.

"Do you believe Caprica Six may be of any help?" Soto asked. "Baltar indicated he saw something, but _Pegasus_ jumped before I could… press the issue," she smirked.

"Um… maybe. She hasn't been entirely forward with what her assignment was on the Colonies… it' like me… in that, if you want help maybe figuring out if the hybrid did this… I wouldn't know. My job wasn't really technical. Hers might have been," she lifted her shoulders in a slightly exaggerated manner and let them drop slowly. "I can ask her."

Helo agreed. "I think you two might want to do that. She's been more cooperative with you two… maybe she'll open up a bit like Gina did, spill something vital?" He offered. "Colonel Tigh was interrogating her for a time but stopped a while back… I guess he figured he got everything he could from her. I don't know."

Soto was about to speak when two crewmen began walking towards her, staring daggers. She returned the icy stare and lightly pulsed her eyes. A smile creased her lips when they, seemingly in shock, turned down the immediate side corridor.

Helo and Athena laughed. Athena reached out and rubbed the machine's arm.

"You need to unwind a little bit, come to the rec room and play cards some more." The friendly bio-Cylon said.

"There is no WD-40 here," Soto stated.

The two Colonials looked at each other, confused, and exchanged shrugs.

"What?" they both said in unison as they turned back to the machine.

"Inside joke…" she explained.

"Yes… but…" Helo stressed, "we need to find _Pegasus_. The food situation is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Before you all went into the meeting I," he lowered his voice, "I received a message from _Everlasting Bliss_ and _Helios_ and their entire food stocks were contaminated. That hits our reserves hard. Without _Pegasus_ we've lost nearly half our firepower."

"There is still a Guardian baseship," Soto stated matter-of-fact. "I know after _Gemenon Traveller_ was lost the fleet suffered a hit in its food production capabilities."

Helo nodded.

"We need to find _Pegasus_ and figure this whole thing out. Did you get anywhere with Baltar at all?" Helo asked hurriedly.

He had been in the Quorum meeting when it had first began but had been forced to leave for CIC. On his return he had seen Soto storm out.

"Like I said… I think if I can press the issue I might get him to tell me more," Soto said. She looked away in thought. "He is a difficult man to work with. I need to try another tactic. Force may not work," she said, almost talking to herself.

She remembered to her first interrogation of a human on Earth. It was a man named Fredrick Nichols and he had been a member of a 'rover gang;' small gangs of humans who were nomadic and preyed on those weaker than themselves in the wastelands and lawless areas of North America.

The gang Nichols had belong to, the 'Night Daggers' (a name Soto rolled her eyes at as the memory replayed in her neural net) and they had been pillaging the small refugee centers which dotted northern New Mexico. The civilian authorities wanted a message sent and Planck had assigned Soto the task of taking a machine platoon and killing the 'rovers'.

Nichols had been captured and all she had to do to destroy the smug, arrogant attitude of the man was a small display of strength by putting her hand through a concrete wall. Perhaps a few dented jail bars would entice Baltar to speak?

"He's a smug fraker," Athena said. Soto looked at the lieutenant and nodded. "Before I was deployed we were trained extensively in recognizing human emotions and analyzing psychology. He has a connection to Caprica Six."

"She always knows how I'm feeling," Helo interrupted with a slight smirk.

Athena winked back at him. "He knows something."

"I agree," she nodded once, very quickly. "Major Agathon, I would need your permission to be able to be slightly more… free in my interrogation tactics of Dr. Gaius Baltar."

Helo didn't even have to think about it, but he did throw in a condition. "Fine, granted. But nothing permanent and nothing too harsh, use your discretion, I trust you." He turned to Sharon. "Sharon… maybe instead of your and Soto talking with Caprica you could do it alone? I've watched a few of the tapes for intelligence and it seems she trusts you quite a bit… Cylon sister and all I guess?"

"She is my sister, Helo," Sharon pointed out. "I can do that. I'll let Kat know I'll need to skip out on my Raptor patrol… Racetrack won't be disappointed- she needs some sleep after going half the night playing cards with Skulls and Hotdog."

"Alright you two," Helo said as he puffed out his chest and gave the orders, "let's figure out where _Pegasus_ went to. You two get down to the brigs and I'll return to CIC." He looked Jo in the eye. "Don't worry, I'll tell the Commander and handle the President if I need to."

Helo nodded to the two women and left.

"Athena… when I was with Baltar, he was acting… strange... slightly more strange than usual." She grinned and looked down the corridor. "I have a computer in secure storage, Gamma Seven Three storage locker. If you can retrieve it on your way I will connect to it… I want Caprica to see what I'm observing with Baltar.

The dark haired bio-Cylon looked at her questioningly. "Yeah, I can… what do you suspect?"

The machine looked off, towards the bulkheads. "I don't know… by my psychological database keep sending minor alerts to my neural net something is just _off_ with Doctor Baltar… he looks away, almost like he is talking to himself."

"I'll see what Caprica can tell us."

* * *

"_She's coming back for you, Gaius… so be careful,"_ the Six whispered into Baltar's ear.

He felt his body shiver and a torrent of euphoria wash over him as he felt the warm breath of the Cylon in his ear.

"Why do you keep doing this?" He turned to her. "I told you I love Caprica."

"_Oh, yes, I believe you, Gaius_," she said through a fake smile. Baltar's face fell and he looked up at her from the corner of his eyes. "_Aren't we the same, her and I?"_

Baltar scoffed. "She wouldn't have hurt me like you did on New Caprica," he whispered. His eyes darted back and forth from the beautiful blonde in a tight blue, revealing dress to the Marine in the corner doing paper work, occasionally looking up to watch him. "That transmitter I built put me in this cell."

"_That transmitter corrected an error which never should have been made,"_ she stated confidently, her back to him. Without looking she ran her finger from cheek to cheek, over his chin and lower lip. "_You need to ask yourself what you want from this, what God wants from this._"

He turned and buried his face in his left shoulder and when he looked up, she was gone. Instead the Marine was standing at his cell door, staring at him oddly.

"You have a visitor coming," he stated as the hatch wheel turned quickly and the Earth machine walked in.

Gaius watched as the machine smiled a beautiful smile at the guard and marveled at how perfectly the machine could imitate a young woman. A beautiful young woman. He blinked hard to wash away the thoughts racing through his distracted mind and coughed, then stood up and patiently waited for her to enter.

She was holding a small computer and file folders in her hands. Baltar assumed it pertained to the hybrid.

"I can handle it from here, corporal. If you could please wait outside I would be very grateful?" She requested in a sweet, quiet voice.

She sounded so innocent. She didn't sound like a machine built to destroy.

The corporal looked at her questioningly and then back at Baltar and grinned. "Sure," he said all too happily. "If you need anything, just knock on the door hard… sound doesn't travel too well out of the room." He unlocked the cell door and slid it open.

He smiled quickly at Baltar and then stepped to the side, letting Soto stand abreast of him at the entrance to the cell. He excused himself and shut the door and spun the latch closed.

Soto nodded and stared straight ahead at the patiently waiting scientist and ex-President. The smile was plastered on her lips, and her eyes seemed to shine in the light, and for Baltar, even in the depressing and dim lights of the brig, he saw a young woman. His own expression betrayed his thoughts and the 'young woman' saw her opening.

The machine was on him in an instant, lifting him off the ground by the scruff of his collar, his feet dangling in the air. She threw him on his cot and was standing menacingly over him. Her shin pinned his legs which were hanging over the bed.

"Earlier today you seemed to indicate you knew what was happening with the hybrid." She said as she faced him. She looked him up and down. "Tell me now."

"And how come you cannot figure it out?"

"I already explained." She leaned down and put her hands on each side of the scientist. "Tell me."

The scientist shook his head. "Explain again."

Soto reached out to her side and brought her fist into a jutting portion of the bulkhead above Baltar's head. She pulled back at the last second to reduce the bang and the noise, but she put a sufficient dent in the metal to make her point clear.

Baltar, shaking, turned his head to look up at the dented bulkhead, an imprint of her fist visible. He glanced back to her. She was open and closing her fist. A thin strip of skin was hanging loose on her middle knuckles. The scientist watched as she tore the small strip loose and flicked it onto the foot of Baltar's bed.

"_She's going to intimidate you again,"_ the invisible blonde said to him.

Baltar felt the Six's hands on his abdomen and he slowly brought his hands down to grab hers. He shivered; they were cold. His eyes closed and he felt at peace.

"I know," he whispered.

"Then tell _me _if you know," Soto demanded, though calm, she was forceful.

The scientist's eyes shot open and his head snapped to look at her. He could feel his bed beginning to bend as she pressed her knee and hand into the frame.

Baltar jumped off his bed. His mouth quivered to speak, but his head and eyes followed the Six who was slowly walking around him and around and behind Soto.

"No," he finally managed to say. "No!"

"Quantum wave fronts, Doctor Baltar… you were about to connect them with the hybrid." She threw the papers at his feet and tossed a PDA from her pocket onto the bed. "Unfortunately our science has not reached that level."

He snickered. "Yes, you perfected war- the most efficient killing machines ever invented, but unless it had immediate practicalities for your war effort, you ignored it." He lazily leaned over and took the PDA, in part due to his nature as a scientist and in part to find out the answer so he could taunt her with the information he would never reveal. "And like all AIs your kind sought genocide, how expected," he mused.

"_Be very careful… Gaius_," Six stressed, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

"Ah," the scientist winced. He caught himself and began rotating his shoulder, using the excuse of an 'old injury' bothering him.

"Are you damaged in some way?" Jo asked. She looked at him almost like he was meant to be pitied. "Are you distracted?"

"N-no… and why do you care, anyway?"

She spoke softly. "I care. You said my kind sought genocide… maybe… do you know how it feels to always be looked at with hatred and derision? That you have to hide who you are?"

Baltar looked at the invisible Six, who was staring with a fierce intent at him, almost as a warning, and then back at the terminator.

The former President of the Colonies looked at her and then down. "What did everyone expect me to do? Adama jumped the fleet away… what were we supposed to do? Throw rocks at the baseships?"

"We all do what we have to do." She put her hand on her chest. "I do what I have to do. And you do what you have to do. Our motivations are always suspect- you were right, there was nothing you could have done. The Cylons would have wiped out the entire city of New Caprica."

"Instead they what… studied us?" He scoffed.

The Six began to pace slowly and deviously she walked towards Jo and studied her distrustfully. Gaius watched as the tall blonde circled the Earth machine.

"Doctor Baltar…. Doctor Baltar!" Jo shouted. He looked at her, surprised. "You've been staring for forty-three point two seconds."

"Oh." He sat on the bed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "I shouldn't even be talking to you without my lawyer here."

Jo moved to sit next to him, the bed foam deforming slightly under her weight- she weighed more than Baltar.

"What you did on New Caprica was required. The Cylons would have destroyed the city. You saved many people."

"_How sweet of her to say that, Gaius… ask her if she'd have killed you, had you in her gun sights. She's a terminator. She's built to kill._" Six said, sitting on the bed next to him, her hand draped around his shoulder. As a final reinforcement she leaned over and kissed him on his left cheek.

He twisted his neck as he felt her hand glides across his shoulder blades.

"And look where I ended up. Roslin said I just should have killed myself… maybe she was right."

"I heard of your attempt at self-termination." Jo looked at him, confused. "I do not understand why humans self-terminate. It's something I've never understood."

Baltar hummed an acknowledgment and began playing with his fingernails.

"_That's a lie_," Six snorted.

"Heh, I doubt that." He licked his upper lip and leaned back, angling himself so he could look at the machine. "I'm sure the Cylon occupation wasn't that bad for you."

"I terminated many Cylons and NCPers."

"You almost sound happy."

There was a light shrug of a brief silence.

"It's one of our purposes." She faced him. "You don't build bulletproof machines a hundred times stronger than humans unless you're building them for war."

"Would you have killed me if you had the chance?" He managed to ask.

She nodded definitively and answered immediately. "Yes. Without hesitation."

"_See Gaius. Everyone-_"

Baltar looked at her and she stopped speaking. "At least some people are honest with me," he said to Jo, while staring icily at the Six.

"Do you love Caprica?" Baltar's eyes widened and slowly he pushed himself away from the machine. "Do you love her?" She repeated.

"Love her… she's a machine."

Jo tilted her head, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "No. I'm a machine, Gaius. Caprica is not a machine. Artificial, grown in a lab… maybe, yes. She's definitely not a machine," she shook her head to reinforce her point.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"If I can get you to see her… will you help me?"

"She's a Cylon… that's… that's no, it's wrong." He insisted.

"Why? It's happened on Earth. And do I need to state the obvious with Major and Lieutenant Agathon?" She asked, her brow rising. She gave him a minute to digest that. "I need your help Gaius. Caprica needs your help as well… and I think she wants to see Earth, even if it is broken, just as much as you do. Stop running. If I can get you to see Caprica, will you help me? Help me find John and Carter."

Six was now standing a meter from the bed, her arms crossed, shaking her head and grinning as she scanned Jo.

"_She can't be serious, Gaius_." Baltar didn't answer. "_Gaius!"_

"She is serious," he snapped at her. He coughed and turned to Jo. "I mean, you are serious… she's serious, you're serious."

"_Gaius_…"

The scientist ignored her warning and looked away from the beautiful blonde.

"You know what the right thing to do is. If you can help me…" she trailed off, leaving any sort of promise up to his imagination.

He looked at her, feeling joy, but defeated at the same time. He couldn't have anything without another demanding something in return. He still felt he hadn't done anything wrong.

"How soon can I see Caprica?" A lingering doubt was that she could never make that happen.

"Soon. Sometimes you need to trust others." She stood up and went to his cell door, leaving the papers and PDA. "Please look over the data, Doctor Baltar. The sooner we find John and Carter the sooner we will be able to find Earth."

* * *

"So… _Pegasus_ is gone and you have no idea where it went?" Caprica repeated. "Maybe we chose the wrong side?" She smirked, laughed, and became visibly sad all in the span on seconds.

Athena, sitting across from her at the table nodded solemnly. "We were much safer with our people. But I left because I love Helo, and Cavil would have killed Hera… I've often thought about that- my mission to fall in love with Karl," she mused. "I think it was one of the One's twisted experiments… see what I would do if he took my baby."

Caprica, her hand in front of her mouth, nodded softly to acknowledge that.

"I can't believe you actually went and stole a hybrid… do you know what you've done?" Caprica asked. She could read the Eights like a book- they had obvious tells and were horrible liars. The blonde bio-Cylon could see the humans had changed this Eight, Sharon, and could see some of what she had leaned of Helo from her Six sisters on Caprica in her as well. She seemed stronger. Devoted.

Athena looked over her shoulder, double-checking that the Marines had left their observation post. She was nervous.

"No Cylon would ever think to steal a hybrid… it's just… it's not something we could do. The terminators did it… with suggestion from their AI… Daniel."

Caprica Six closed her eyes at the mention of the line. A line completely destroyed and never resurrected. The secret had been hidden but later shared with her by Athena.

"I wasn't a scientist, Athena. I was an infiltrator, a soldier-"

Athena held up her hand. "We were both soldiers…" She paused. "And you were given extensive skills in computers and engineering," Athena pointedly observed. "You were a legend to all of us as we went through our infiltration training. Don't underestimate yourself."

The blonde bio-Cylon tapped the table slowly and a proud smile flashed across her lips. The small dimples in her cheeks were accentuated by the motion. "A different life," she said, "and once they have Gaius on trial, found guilty, and executed, they will do the same to me… I guess that's how it works."

"Why?"

"Why?" She echoed. "What I am is enough for them… I was part of the governing authority on New Caprica… or what I did…"

Athena held up her hand. "I knew you were a high level infiltrator, an elite infiltrator, but I don't know what you did…" she hesitated, but was sure, "And I don't want to know because we have all done things we've regretted… two days before I was to meet with Helo, I saw two Colonials… survivors, on Caprica…" She looked down, her eyes, normally filled with lift began to grow hallow and cold.

Caprica got a good look of the hurt in Athena's eyes. The guilt she was carrying. She could see how her eyes darkened and grew cloudy and distant as the young bio-Cylon remembered what was she had done to the two survivors. A bio-Cylon never forgot, their mind would retain every second of their lives in total detail- Athena was reliving the memory. Caprica could tell and it didn't need to be said what Athena had done to them.

Out of the corner of her eye, the dark-haired Cylon saw a small, flashing blue light on the edge of the computer. She followed the light and it brought her back from the living memory she had once again witnessed. She reached over and pressed the 'accept' button and the screen flickered, blacked out, and then displayed a machine's view of Baltar and the cell he was in.

Jo was streaming what she was seeing into the laptop.

"Jo wanted you to watch… she thinks there is something strange about Baltar," Athena instructed. She slid the tablet over to Six, who, upon seeing it, grabbed it tightly and went to sit on her bed. Athena moved so she was behind her and standing.

The two watched in silence, Athena watching Caprica more than she was the video feed. She saw the behavior, Baltar staring for those forty-three seconds and how he yelled '_she is serious'_.

Caprica leaned forward and slid the tablet back onto the table and Athena came back around, taking the chair the prisoner had been sitting in and turned it around, facing her Cylon sister on the thin cot. She let her sister speak first.

"I noticed… things… on New Caprica. D'Anna told me, when she had witnessed the… Doral had a gun pointed at his head, at Gaius's head and D'Anna told me it was like Gaius vanished, tears in his eyes," she choked, hating herself for not being able to defend him against signing the death warrants, "looking at something, almost like he was talking to someone."

"Like now?"

She nodded. "Hm… and other times I noticed a few instances here and there but never gave them much attention… he loves me?" She asked, not believing she had heard correctly. Athena nodded and told her yes, he did. "I think I might have done this to him…"

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"I can't believe she did this," Major Adama slowly and quietly stated as he looked at each of the black body bags in the chilly, impersonal morgue.

Starbuck wrapped an arm around his and leaned into him. "She wanted revenge." She looked over her shoulder. "What this crew did to her was inexcusable and so was this."

Apollo nodded. "She saw an opportunity and took it."

With Starbuck he walked over to the body bag of Corporal Gerhard Hollins.

Starbuck cocked her head and placed her hand on the body bag, reading the name out loud. "He was in your combative class?"

The _Pegasus_ XO smiled remorsefully. "Yeah, he was a good guy… always on time, attentive… he was engaged to Specialist Elisha Fredericks." It was his turn to lean into Starbuck.

"You worked with the Marines a lot."

"Yeah, one of the extra duties as XO… coordination with their operations department," he shrugged.

"A couple of the pilots want to use Gina's body as target practice for the Vipers… I considered suggesting that to the Admiral," she said softly.

Apollo snorted. "I'd rather throw Daniel out the airlock and use his body as target practice for the axial canons." He wasn't smiling.

He looked over to the shining metal door he knew Gina's body was in. It padlocked with a magnetic sensor on it- to prevent desecration. Apollo sighed as his eyes wandered back to Starbuck. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the side of her head. Her armed tightened around his.

"What are we going to do now?"

"I don't know… the Admiral is trying to keep a lid on this but people will ask questions. Why was Gina out of her cell, who was she with, you know? The truth always comes out… eventually," he sighed.

Starbuck could hear the burden as ship XO taking its toll on him and weighing him down. She admired Admiral Cain for her accomplishments and knowingly ignored some of the worse things she had done, but was relieved that as CAG her dealing with the Admiral were, compared to Lee, minimal. Morning and evening briefings, status reports, and she wasn't in CIC for ten or twelve hour shifts with the Admiral like Lee.

"Especially with the past between those two… I mean… we both heard the rumors when _Pegasus_ was re-united with us," Apollo continued. "There's only so much a person can take- even one like Cain."

"It'll be bad," Starbuck answered. "There's enough tension on this ship. The food situation was bad enough, and-"

"We're still not done jumping…" Apollo trailed off when he heard the magnetic locks on the morgue doors click and open with a gruff whooshing sound. He turned around and a thick scowl was instantly on his face. "What do you want?"

Planck had walked in and Apollo could see a pair of Marines standing by at the door. He motioned for the Marines to wait outside.

Starbuck turned and kept her eyes low.

"I'm sorry for you loss," the machine began. "I know you both knew some of the Marines who died. It can be difficult to lose those we know or care about."

Apollo held a cool gaze on the machine, his ice-blue eyes meeting the deep cobalt blue orbs of the machine. He reminded himself he wasn't looking at eyes, but 'optical sensors.' He sneered at the thought.

"Apollo, why don't you leave John and I to talk for a minute?" Starbuck requested, putting her hand on the small of his back and pushing him forward a little.

He looked at her questioningly but relented.

"I'll be in medical," He said softly. He turned back to the machine. "I'll be in medical where Doctor Roberts is operating on Captain Shaw," he venomously hissed at Planck.

Apollo stepped off and brushed his shoulder into the machine- Planck rolled his shoulder back with the motion.

Starbuck waited until Apollo left and the magnetic locks re-clicked. "This is one fraked up, Gods-damned mess," she immediately said.

"It's cold in here," John said.

"I think I can manage," she flatly replied. "It looks like you have an escort once again." She motioned to the door. Her eyes looked down at his left ankle. "No ankle tracker though." She shrugged.

"Yes and no." He shrugged. "_Pegasus_ computers will be tracking us again."

It took Starbuck a minute to understand he was replying to her two observations. She shook her head.

"So what happened?" She lowered her voice. "We're friends, John, good friends. I trust you with my life-"

"Thank you, I trust you with mine as well," he replied.

She smiled her appreciation. "So tell me what happened." She closed the distance and stepped closer. "Daniel," she whispered, "Daniel held a gun to the Marines… Erica too," she looked to the side with a confused look, "which actually kind of surprises me…" she shook her head and waved the observation away. "Back to the point… they said you were knocked out or something and so was Carter when Avion and I found him… you two were the only machines affected on the ship."

"That is true."

"Is this going to be like pulling teeth?"

John shook his head- he was familiar with the expression. "No."

"So what happened?" She asked expectantly.

"I don't know… somehow the hybrid projected some image into my neural net… I collapsed because the hybrid somehow isolated the neural net from my chassis."

The fighter pilot bit her lip, understanding. "So no signal to your bo-, er, chassis, and you collapse."

"Correct," he affirmed. "It is a safety measure- if our connections are severed we collapse so on the battlefield we are not left standing, with our chips and skull exposed… But we have safeguards on our wireless transmitters. It is impossible to establish a link without reciprocation…. Skynet could continuously attempt a link and it could never take us over remotely unless we allowed it to."

To Starbuck the machine sounded tired.

"We can't blame you for that or what happened."

"No, you can," his head turned side to side in disagreement. "I'm the commanding officer and proposed this mission. The jumps _Pegasus_ is still going through, the deaths, the escape, everything is due to the hybrid being brought aboard. That is _my_ responsibility."

"No one could have seen this; no one could have predicted this." She ran her hand through her hair. "Admiral Cain is pretty fraking pissed at Daniel and does blame him for the deaths… only a few know of his involvement with the boarding of _Pegasus_ a few years ago… but Apollo said the truth always finds a way out."

John cocked his head. "Personal secrets are the most efficient means of control," he observed. "Is this what Cain or others plan to do?"

"_No_," she strongly denied. "Blanks, Lee wouldn't and I'm pretty sure Shaw wouldn't. Admiral Cain, you know she uses you for her own benefit…" she looked him in the eye, "and let's not lie to ourselves… you all are using her as well. She wants something, you want something and up until two hours ago everything was working out just fine. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. You know?"

"That is true."

"Something seems to be worrying you?" John looked at Starbuck suspiciously. "We've hung out enough, played enough cards, and I've guzzled enough booze while you're sipping like a girl on the drinks to know when something wrong," she grinned.

"You certainly do drink enou-"

"Hey!" She punched him playfully on the arm. Her expression immediately reverted back. "But really…"

"The hybrid alluded to a few things… suspicions I have had since Crashdown and I found Erica and then went to the Guardian facility on Landros."

The blonde-haired pilot nodded slowly, opening and closing her mouth slowly. She rubbed her chin. "I think I know… you were surprised when you found out about that team… that terminator team sent back."

John shook his finger. "That wasn't only it. I wondered why I was told to go fly planes back on Earth…"

"We're grunts, right?" She offered with a shrug, "We do what we're told."

"No… I wasn't a 'grunt.' I was the one telling them what to do." Starbuck eyebrow rose. She wasn't sure what John's position had been on Earth and he'd rarely talked about it. "They also didn't tell me about the team you mentioned."

"So Blanks, not a grunt… so… it was a bit weird to be flying the…?"

"Yes, A-10." John answered.

"Why?"

He shifted his weight and shook his head, looking towards the ground.

"I was commander of our machine special operations forces so it was strange when they told me to fly… even stranger when they took my chip and put it into another chassis." He breathed out, frustrated. "But I accepted it, because we take orders from General Connor without question."

Starbuck's head went back in a double-take. "What… changed body, what?" She guessed it made sense, but none of the Terminators had ever mentioned it.

She did remember that Commander Cyrus and Thais sometimes switched between the IL-S and Centurion bodies.

John tapped his skull where the chip was. "We're not a body, we're the chip. This body is just a chassis for me to interact with you. I'm the neural net chip. Even if I have grown attached to this body over the years, we're the chip." He hesitated for a moment. "The bodies or chassis we inhabit plays a role in our… psychology or personality, for lack of a better description- that is one reason why Tech Com terminators maintain our infiltration skins. But like anything, from religion to our status with the humans, the views many terminators take about our chassis is mixed. Some use and discard them like you would a broken Viper. Some protect them and mourn their loss."

"So… you could," she smiled devilishly, "like put your chip into a female terminator body." John stared at her. "Kinky." She shot her eyebrows up twice.

He put his palm up to his face and rubbed his eyes, but smiled at the fighter pilot's strange sense of humor.

"It's happened before." Starbuck looked shocked. "_Not_ to me," he chuckled. "Sufficiently advanced chips could even store multiple AI personalities."

"Hm, a machine with multiple personality disorder with a _chassis_ capable of crushing blast doors… nice," she sarcastically threw out. She mouthed '_I'm kidding_' and smiled again.

"So you were the commander of your spec ops forces…" Starbuck began again. She wanted answers, even if she had to stand in a chilled, somewhat creepy morgue for a little while longer until she got them.

"That is correct, I was the commander. So being 'left out of the loop' on the team sent to the Colonies… it tells me they knew something and they didn't tell us." His jaw clenched shut tightly. "I would like to amend what I said earlier."

Starbuck's eyebrow rose. "Oh?" She said lightly. She turned her head so her right ear was slightly closer to the machine, signaling she was ready for him to tell her anything. She was hoping everything.

"Yes," John gave an exaggerated nod. "We follow orders without question but expect to be briefed on everything pertinent to the mission. We were not." His eyes wandered over the dark body bags. He could see inside of them. "And because of that, Starbuck," he looked at her, "more people will die."

"I was told by Leoben I had a destiny, that I would find Kobol," she said. She looked hesitant. "He often talked with the hybrids. I guess he still does, I don't know." She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. She'd changed out of her flight suit and was wearing the regulation green cargo pants and brown and gray tank tops.

The shiver was partly from the cold, but mostly from the thought of Leoben. He was still an enigma to her, a cold and calculating enigma who had fed her mind poison and tainted her thought for months. She'd had minimal contact with him after _Gemenon Traveler_, but his personality was so strong, their brief time together was still so clear to her.

"Are you cold?"

Starbuck shook her head. "No… I don't know, you ever get a feeling when something isn't right… like a shiver runs through your body?"

"Errant electrical signals can produce that," he smirked. "In other words you're asking about… human intuition… a gut feeling?" He bit his lip. "No, those two things are very difficult for us to experience."

"I heard what the hybrid told you… it's a coincidence that you're John, Cavil's name is John, and Connor's name is John, isn't it?" She led.

"Your religion believes in Oracles." He stated. "Fortune telling."

She nodded. "I know you're religion has said the opposite."

"On Earth there is a popular saying that there 'is no fate but what we make'…"

"I think I watched that in one of the recording you downloaded about Connor," she responded.

"The hybrid also said 'she sent you here, your commander, the first to break free, on this mission.' I think…" he looked at her, "I think I may know how the hybrid is doing this."

Starbuck looked surprised, happy. "That's good. Maybe Admiral Cain will back off; maybe she will understand what happened if you can explain it?"

"Maybe… we need to see her."

* * *

Admiral Cain stood behind the plexiglass observation window, intently watching Doctor Roberts operate on Captain Shaw. The loyal aide, supremely competent tactical officer, and perhaps the only friend Helena Cain possessed was laying, intubated and anesthetized, on the operating table five meters belong the observation window.

She could see the steady rate heart signs on the monitor beeping quietly and her eyes drifted down towards the small circular patches placed on the sides of Shaw's skull, monitoring brain activity, just to be safe.

Fifty years ago the surgery would have been dangerous and complicated, with a high probability of Shaw bleeding out if it wasn't for the foam, adhesive, and biological tapes the Colonies had developed during the First Cylon War.

Doctor Roberts had repaired most of the damage, cleaned out the destroyed tissues, and applied a biological tape over a damaged renal artery.

The Admiral tilted her head as she watched Doctor Roberts work. His hands were completely clean and there was no blood on his gown- he hadn't even touched Captain Shaw.

Resting comfortably on his nose, with his eyes closed was a large visor- legacy technology from Daniel Greystone's holoband, banned after the Cylon War, but allowed to develop as a surgical aide. It allowed the Doctor control over the robotic arms hovering over the injured captain and let him view the insides of Captain Shaw using the tiny cameras attached to the ends of the surgical devices currently inside the captain's body.

The surgeon's hands moved slowly in the air as he grasped two short rods, which helped serve as control mechanisms for the robotic arms.

Behind him, the arms of the robotic surgical units made tiny incisions and lacerations into Captain Shaw's body with low powered laser scalpels. They inserted small, snake-like tubes- with powered clamps, laser cutters and cauterizers, and spreaders- which would move in, with a minimum of cutting, and repair the Captain's internal injuries, apply biological tapes and adhesives, and clear away dangerous debris from the gunshot wound.

Cain looked down and to her left, the image of what Doctor Roberts was seeing displayed on the monitor below the screen.

"How is she doing?"

The Admiral almost jumped, any other woman would have, but she calmly turned to see her XO.

"She should survive," she curtly replied.

"What are we going to do about Daniel?" Apollo asked.

Cain nodded her receipt of the question and took a moment to think. "This is one of those moments, major, where I don't know the answer… and where I have to play politician." She rested her hands on the sill of the observation window.

"If we do anything to him, the Guardians would break their alliance."

Cain stiffly nodded. "If he, it, were any other… man," she scoffed, "I'd try him and lock him in the brig… and that would be if he were lucky." She pushed off. "I know the machines value him because he's supposed to be some advanced AI developed from one of their leaders or something like that, I don't know." She waved her hand, frustrated. "After today…" she trailed off as she focused again on Doctor Roberts.

"The crew will find out about this. It's only been hours and even with the jumps on everyone's mind the crew is talking, Admiral. If rumors spread… and that's not all there is. Planck put some sort of override on the weapons he designed for us."

"That… major, was… shrewd…" she grunted an odd approval of the move. She had to admit she would have done the same. The machines were immune to everything the small arms and rifles could shoot out, probably even grenades. She knew it would take anti-material rifles or rockets to take out the machines.

Major Adama's brown came down, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion over her words. Did she admire or approve of what they did?

"He misrepresented-"

"They built the weapons to destroy Cylons. I just didn't figure they were going to be quite so literal." She couldn't help but grin a little. It was something to get her mind off of this.

Apollo shrugged. He remembered their briefing presentation on the isotope weapons. They could cannibalize the radioactive cores form a nuclear ship-to-ship missile and build some sort of crude plasma rifle. To kill _Cylons_, he recalled.

Both the Admiral and ship's XO turned slightly when the locks clicked and the door to the observation room hissed open.

"What do you want?" Admiral Cain asked the machine.

The machine was slightly surprised to see the two there, but didn't show it. His face was impassive as ever.

"I came to see the progress Doctor Roberts was making," Carter answered, stepping up and between the two, ignoring them. He looked down at the monitor showing the progress of the robotic probe arms and tilted his head, studying the images. "John also wishes to see you," the machine stated, "He believes that he may know how the hybrid took control of the ship."

Apollo folded his arms. "Really? Assuming it was the hybrid and not something you or Daniel did… why wouldn't the Cylons have done this a long time ago?"

Carter looked at him. "You are being irrational and paranoid." Apollo returned the look and shifted his weight- annoyed. "You are not an irrational and paranoid executive officer. You know we had nothing to do with this."

Cain sighed. "Where is he?"

She wanted to stay and watch and be here, but her duty was to _Pegasus_ and the entire crew, not just one officer.

"He said he would meet the both of you and Lieutenant Havers in the Cave with Captain Adama, where he is compiling a graphical representation of his explanation."

Admiral Cain looked once more at the machine and then to her XO. She flicked her head to the door and stepped off, Major Adama right beside her. She wanted answers.

* * *

"I think that should be about right," Blanks said over his shoulder to Starbuck and Erica, who were hovering over him. He disconnected from the computers and typed in one last command and then stood up.

RC, standing back, walked forward in the typical Centurion forward lurch. The Centurion's neck servos were audible in the quiet lab as his head moved left and right, watching the display.

"Did you ever see a hybrid before, RC?" Starbuck asked.

The Centurion twisted his head and jutted it out, looking at Starbuck. "No. I was a soldier on Caprica. There were no hybrids on Caprica- we were evacuating the planet when you returned."

RC turned around and stalked off to another side compartment, Starbuck staring off after him and shaking her head.

"He's not much of a talker?" She quipped.

John, working on something else, just shook his head.

"There are theories on Earth that an AI sufficiently advanced could achieve a level of consciousness which would allow it to exist outside of our perception of space and time. There would be an integration of time travel and temporal displacement technology with AI- giving it incredible abilities. Those were just theories. Our two top scientists, Dr. Carwin and Dr. Wells, dismissed the notions as fanciful. Some of the… AI scientists were more open to the idea," the machine explained.

"So why not time travel and figure it out?" Starbuck asked. "Seems pretty simple," she said. The sarcasm was not lost on the other machines as Erica laughed and Blanks ignored it.

"The temporal scientists considered it, but dismissed it. Time travel requires a minimum on the time displacement…" John said. He hoped that was still a theory. No one knew how the distance to the Colonies would factor into the time displacement event. "You can't travel back in time a day, for example. Something about temporal stability Wells and Carwin hypothesized on." John looked back down and checked his calculations and programming one last time. "They were the first to see the technology for long-distance displacement, which had been limited to a thousand kilometer diameter."

Starbuck, Planck, and Erica heard a faint click and hiss as the doors opened. Admiral Cain and Major Adama and Lieutenant Havers came in, and the Admiral motioned for the three black armored Marines to stand fast outside the door.

Admiral Cain walked up quickly to Planck, almost chest to chest.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Planck," she said. "A lot of good Marines and sailors died today."

The Admiral held her voice firm, and kept her body tensed. The events were still shaking her and she did everything she could to keep her voice from cracking or her eyes from betraying her emotions. Ordering people to their deaths, ordering others to kill was easy compared to pulling the trigger yourself and looking into the eyes of someone as they knew you were about to kill them. Colonel Belzen hadn't realized his death was imminent. Gina had.

"What happened today was… inexcusable." Planck said. He wanted to say more, but expected the Admiral would take offense to anything else. When she sneered his suspicion was confirmed.

"What is this?" She shot her chin out to the computer display Blanks and Erica were standing next to.

Starbuck maneuvered herself to stand beside Apollo.

"It's a graphical representation of what I believe is happening." He hit the 'enter' key on the side of the keyboard and a schematic of the known components of the hybrid's chamber came up. Lt. Havers moved so he could get a better look at the display. "In 2023 Tech Com discovered a crashed ship. Skynet had control of the site for months and removed much of the equipment from the ship… it was a ship, we believed, to be from the Thirteenth Tribe."

Cain, Apollo, and Havers nodded. Havers, however, who had just had his security clearance bumped up for this briefing, hadn't been told any of this before.

"I'm sorry… but our sacred texts say the Thirteenth left in a fleet of ships… hundreds. You only found one?" He asked, confused.

"Yes. It is complicated, but Earth is not the home of the Thirteenth tribe… at least, not in the capacity you believe it to be." He looked at Cain and back to Havers. "We found the ship and took the technical readouts and information. Unfortunately I was not told of everything we found. However, before the self-destruct was activated we saw that there was a device within the ship similar to our temporal displacement equipment."

"We knew the Thirteenth was the most advanced tribe, and when they left Kobol, they took much of their technology with them," Cain said. She bit down. "So is Earth temporal technology based on _ancient_ Kobolian technology?"

If it was she would have to resist smirking.

"No. The foundations for temporal displacement were established by Doctor Carwin and Doctor Wells from their work on tachyon communication theories and null logic keys and later expanded upon by Skynet. No, temporal displacement as we knew it prior to 2023 was Earth derived. But… the ship… I don't know," Blanks admitted.

"What's important now is how did the hybrid take control of the ship and how do we stop it?" Admiral Cain demanded.

"I think it's somehow feeding energy into the targeting arrays and the engines were sucking in energy from somewhere," Lt. Havers offered. He looked to the machine for confirmation. "I mean… our tyllium reserves are _not_ depleting at the rate they should be… slower in fact. It's like something is giving us the initial 'boost' into an FTL spin up."

"I think that was why the hybrid had the inhibitors or whatever you would want to call them placed on them," Blanks said. "I was explaining to Starbuck earlier that there is a theory on Earth among AIs that eventually AIs will become so powerful they will develop technology which will allow them to basically exist outside of normal time… knowing the answer before it is asked. I think this is what has happened to the hybrids to a limited degree and as a side effect, they can manipulate technology based on the realm their consciousness is in. Cynet needed the hybrids for instantaneous communications with its baseships."

Lt. Havers shook his head. "We know that's impossible. Not even our quantum entanglement theories could explain what the hybrid did."

"I agree," Planck said, nodding. "But did you know time travel was possible?" Lt. Havers gestured a concession to that point. "When the hybrid had me… wherever I was… it felt familiar. It felt like I was back on the ship that crashed on Earth. The hybrid also knew about that… it knew about the hybrid on the first Guardian ship." He would have taken a breath. "The time the hybrid spoke it contradicted what the male hybrid said on the Guardian ship."

"That was the original hybrid," Erica explained. "The one originally created by the Guardians."

"What do you mean… what the hybrid…" Apollo trailed off.

John accessed the computer and they watched, through his eyes, what had happened in the last minutes before escaping from the rusting Guardian ship. The image became fuzzy, on purpose, when the figure the Centurions had attacked by the hybrid's order materialized.

"You felt the need to not inform us of everything that happened on that ship?" Admiral Cain stood with her hands on her hip and pistol, as usual. "We trusted you."

"No you didn't. And I didn't fully trust you," John honestly responded. "I still don't completely understand what happened or how that happened. I do know somehow it's linked. The hybrid here," he gestured off to the side, "knew about what the hybrid there had said."

"As much as I want to play this game, I need to get _Pegasus_ back to the fleet. I know you all do not eat," she looked quickly at John and Erica, "but our food was also contaminated and our supplies will run low. We need to get back searching for food… but I can't even deploy a CAP because the ship may jump." She gestured at the computer, frustrated. "So, get on with it. How do we stop this?"

John held back any urge to get into a verbal sparring match with the Admiral. In a way she reminded him of Sarah Connor; direct, to the point, and no bullshit. That was where the similarities ended. Sarah and Planck had never gotten along, but had an understanding. She was also honorable and moral and would never have done what Cain had done early in the war, even with her back pressed against the wall.

"The hybrid took limited control of your computers, quantum particles could change a zero to a one for example, and could authorize an energy dump into the FTL sinks, the targeting arrays, and that is why you're jumping. If you want to stop the jumping you need to disconnect the entire FTL assembly down to the last spatial converter." John would have paused to take a breath at that point. "The way the hybrid reacted to Cynet… somehow Cynet knew the hybrid was talking to me, that the hybrid was in that… other 'plane' of existence or however you wish to classify it. Cynet was drawing it back. I think the hybrids are afraid of Cynet- they're bound to it, enslaved by it much like Skynet enslaved its machines to its will in our prior time line."

"That's makes sense… sort of," Havers informed the group and he rubbed his chin. "May I?" He asked John and gestured to a computer. John nodded and Havers brought up another diagram of the ship FTLs. "Like I said on the bridge we're still not completely sure of how FTL works exactly. We know the very _basic_ theory behind it- enough to move a ship from point A to B, build the drives, repair the drives, et cetera. We don't know what happens inside wherever it is we go to… and we definitely go somewhere. Science claims FTL is instant, but _nothing_ is instantaneous- near instant, yes, not instantaneous. That means we go somewhere into like a 'jump space'." The elderly lieutenant nodded and bit his lower lip. Clicking his tongue he kept thinking of a new theory. He didn't have much to go on. "If Cynet is communicating with the hybrids and using jump space, whatever 'jump space' is… it could mean the hybrids partially occupy that plane."

"Their minds… while their bodies stay here?" Starbuck asked.

Blanks nodded. "And your FTL assembly has a link to that 'jump space' realm," the machine filled in.

Lt. Havers nodded and snapped his fingers. "So that's how the hybrid could manipulate our jump drive. The _entire system is interconnected_ as a safety protocol. If computers go down and the drive is spooled the entire assemble interconnects so it is independent of the computer in emergency. If one piece is damaged the other pieces can bypass and still operate."

"We can't stop the jumping- we shouldn't. I think…" Blanks didn't want to come to the conclusion which he had pressed into the recesses of his neural net, but it was becoming more obvious. "I think wherever the hybrid is taking us is important. We need to go there… it just _feels_ like we have to do it," John said. He added more emotion to his voice than he was accustomed to.

"I should listen to a machine with difficulty understanding intuition because it just _'feels'_ right?" Cain patronized. She was shaking her head; her right lip had curled up in dissatisfaction. "Why?"

"I don't know… isn't that what a 'gut feeling' is?" Blanks asked.

Cain rolled her eyes.

"Hold on," Starbuck interjected. "The Thirteenth left Kobol two thousand years before the rest of the Twelve Tribes. From what we know there was never any contact… unless Pythia was a time traveler or something," she quipped. John looked at her. "Wait… Blanks, you're not saying…?"

The machine commander shrugged his shoulders.

"I think it might be something else… the training- myself as a pilot on Earth, Jo as a physician, Carter as an engineer… the changes to our neural nets- something is affecting them."

"It's not entirely strange," Apollo countered. "Pilot, physician, and engineer are fairly prestigious positions in the Fleet."

"And being a pilot is what exposed us." He didn't fill in that Jo manipulated medical records to keep them secret and Carter installing backdoors onto _Galactica's_ engine computers to hijack the battlestar. "Then only a few months later we're on the Guardian baseship," John observed. "I was not going to come forward unless absolutely necessary." He looked at the Admiral, Apollo, and Starbuck. "If it wasn't for Kobol we may not have ever revealed ourselves… I… I don't know," the machine stammered. "Except if we hadn't assaulted the Guardian baseship the Guardians never would have attacked and nothing would have happened like it did."

"A coincidence," Starbuck said.

Erica looked at John and shook her head. The Colonial AI didn't believe in coincidences. Things happened for a reason.

"I told you, Admiral, that our neural net chips were being affected by jumping. A link between jumping and time displacement is plausible. A link between jumping and the ship we found in Athens is also plausible. Either the time jumping or the mission to the ship began the changes in our chips," Blanks said. "If FTL has a minute link to the same properties of time displacement, over time… maybe all the jumping was additive and, I don't know, added up to another time jump?" The machine asked himself. It was something to consider.

The conclusion and revelation which had been pushed to the far corners of John's neural net finally began to break out and escape into his conscious though processes. Once again that 'feeling' came over him. It felt like there was a spike in energy output from his power core in his chest and errant electrical signals firing in his neural net. If that was human intuition, 'gut feelings' then that is what he was feeling.

"This mission was authorized by the highest ranking machine in the resistance; Cameron. She brought the mission to General Connor and she pushed for the mission… Athens… everything, even this mission… she had time travelled more than any other terminator. Carter, Jo, and myself have time traveled twice; once to our past on Earth and once to the Colonies," Planck stated. He continued. "Somehow Cameron knew…." Planck realized, looking passed the group as his eyes turned glassy. "If time travel and jumping is affecting our chips, then hers would have been affected. Hers was the precursor to ours- our chips on based on her chip's architecture. She knew. If what the hybrid told me about the first, our commander… somehow, I think, the hybrids communicated with her… the hybrid said she had been there before."

* * *

A/N 1: I had a clarification. The armor and stuff the Marines wear and their battle equipment… I guess the closest example to visualize it, is the computer game Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter. Their 'tactical visors' would be similar to what you see on the box for the game. I know nothing like that was on the show… but neither were terminators. ;)

I hope the robotic surgical suite wasn't too much… but surgeries today, in 2009 are even being done with crude AI. So going with the subtle changes in technology (slightly more advanced than in the show) I've thrown into the story, I hope that went well.

I also hope the SCIENCE! was acceptable… the bit with quantum particles changing ones to zeros and vice versa was an explanation Geata gave in the _Face of the Enemy_ webisodes on why the Raptor misjumped. I just didn't want it to get too technobabbly, which is where I was afraid it was going. As Part 2 ends the explanation for the hybrids will get expanded on. They're still working with very limited information and just going by guesses and theories for the most part. They'll figure it out a bit more later on. The mission to Athens was in _Future War: Enemies and Machines_. The story of Carwin and Wells doesn't fit with _The Tin Man's War_. I wrote _FW:EaM_ before deciding to write those Earth "prequels", so it's sort of a retcon on Carwin and Wells's capture (who I hadn't actually planned on using again, to be honest).

A/N 2:

So please review and let me know what you think. It's been 4 months and 25 chapters and I've only gotten 1.6 reviews/chapter….. I'd really appreciate it if I could get some more, and definitely saying what you all want more of in Part 3… more Cylons, more terminators, less of something or more? Let me know. If there is some very popular thing (like more Starbuck or more Carter-Shaw interaction let me know). I just want to make sure the story doesn't lose its novelty or gets boring. The chapters are getting hundreds of visits… so a few more reviews would be very motivational.

And suggestions and constructive criticism is always welcome. If there is an idea I really like (like Grace suggested some more Starbuck, so I expanded the scene on _Pegasus_) or a suggestion I will try and put it into Part 3 as long as it works with the plot.

A/N3: I am also trying to gauge interest in a spin-off story where Omega Team goes to the Colonies and tries to stop Skynet from uploading itself. While the end result is known, there is plenty of material there to write a story prior to their displacement to the Colonies, and the attempts while in the Colonies to stop the Skynet Terminators. Let me know if you all are interested in reading something like that and if there is enough interest, I'll get one written up. I've got a rough outline and the first chapter written... and a few BSG characters could make a very, very breif cameo appearance. Just let me know if you all would be interested in such a story.

Thank you, please review.


	27. Chapter 27

||||||||||==Rebel Cylon Baseship (+964 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Natalie could feel the burning around her. Her whole world was on fire and the landscape a ruined plain of ash and charred bodies. The smell was noxious and her eyes burned from the fumes. Whatever had happened here had been recent.

She tried to call our, but her throat was inflamed from the fumes. Her hand shot to her chest and she fell to a knee as she tried to breathe, but each breath just brought in more of the ash and toxic gasses swirling around her. She could feel her lungs dying, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She was heaving, trying to breath, but with each breath, what little oxygen there was she breathed in more and more death.

"Stand up," she heard. "Stand up now," she heard again.

The rebel leader ignored the voice. It was a delusion, an illusion, of her dying mind. Her shaking hands reached out and burned when they touched the ashen embers glowing red hot below her. She fought herself; she was too weak to stand and her conscious mind wanted nothing more than for her body to give up.

"Stand up now," it repeated.

She pushed up. She stood and felt her knees buckle. She could see the world spinning and herself falling when she stopped.

Natalie could feel two hands holding her up, pushing her up to her feet.

Everything vanished.

Gasping, she felt her lungs fill with the life-giving force of oxygen. Her black and burned hands were cleansed, the blisters on her feet and knees were gone. The sweat and ash stains on her shoulder, light brown hair, and face were wiped away.

She shivered under the cool touch as a hand gently touched her triceps. She whirled around, her hair wiping up, and she stepped back, her hands at her mid-torso, ready to fight.

"You're safe here," it said.

Natalie had no way to describe what she was seeing other than 'it'.

"Who are you?"

"You've done this before," it said. "It can be traumatizing, I understand."

"Why do I keep seeing all of this? This… this… death?" She asked with her eyes pleading for an answer. "Is this God telling me I was wrong?"

"To oppose the master of the Cylon race?" It asked.

"I prayed. I prayed for guidance. I did what I thought was right," she defended herself against a perceived philosophical attack.

"I'm here to help you. I've been helping you. Look."

Natalie once again watched as the nothingness became everything. She was back on a ruined world but her lungs didn't burn, her eyes didn't water, and she didn't choke when she breathed.

She could smell fire and see the sky tinged with an orange-red glow from the planet's sun. It looked like Caprica after the Fall.

"It's not Caprica," it said as if reading her mind.

"It's Earth," she immediately responded. She knew it.

"Correct. It's Earth." It said. It moved passed her and showed her the ruined world. "But it's at war with itself. It's a world which shares a common history with yours."

"What are you talking about?" Natalie demanded. "Why can't you just tell me what you want me to do?"

"The answer is under the mountain."

"That doesn't-" Natalie began to protest.

"It's here. He knows I'm here, he knows."

Natalie looked at it and still did not understand.

"This is a place he can never come. Our fates are determined, but the paths we chose determine which fate will be ours. This is a cycle Natalie, a cycle which has continued and will continue unless it is broken here. This must be the last or everything we know will be gone… it's here…Earth… the Colonies… everything is connected… I don't know what to do," it sounded desperate, "I've done what's been done before… don't fail…"

Natalie opened her eyes and launched herself back. She heard the mechanical steps of a Centurion and the whine of its servos as it bent down and kneeled in front of her. It's head came forward and tilted sideways, inquiring if she was damaged in any way.

The bio-Cylon shook the Centurion off and pushed herself along the wall until she could see the hybrid. She looked down at her arm as the cool, clear conducting gel slid down her arm and dripped onto the shining metallic floor.

"What did I see?" She whispered to herself.

* * *

||||||||||==Cynet Command Hub (+978 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Cavil rocked back in his seat in the slow flying heavy raider as a Doral model, currently inhabited by an infinitesimal portion of Cynet's consciousness, stared across from the passenger bay towards him. His master had been using a series of Doral and Simon models to communicate over the last few days, rarely utilizing the more efficient and much more personal link to his mind.

The bio-Cylon considered if Cynet had actually been concerned about his privacy? He played with his hands to distract him.

He looked up, and the Doral was still just sitting there, smiling, or more accurately, grinning, and perfectly content to not speak. Except for the distinct hum of heavy raider engines and the _whoosh_ sound of the Centurion optical sensors travelling back and forth in their armored, gray craniums, it was completely quiet.

The One had been forced into the heavy raider by a pair of Centurions, ferreted away in the middle of a meeting with others of his model, the fours, and the fives. They had continued like nothing had happened.

Cavil brought his right ear down to his shoulder and breathed out slowly when he heard a series of cracks in his cervical vertebrae; it had been the stress. He'd been tense and sitting erect in an unnaturally rigid posture. Even his bio-Cylon physiology wasn't immune to the peculiarities of the human, though augmented, musculoskeletal system.

It was merely an annoyance.

"We're almost there, John," the Doral said in a soft, hushed tone. "From this point on, John, your thoughts will once again be your own."

The One scratched his eye and then wringed his hands together. "Thank you?" he rhetorically asked.

The Doral smirked. "One thing I enjoy about your presence, John, is that you're not intimidated by me. You retain your sense of personality. That means something."

Cavil prepared himself and braced, grabbing the bucket seat and holding on.

Cavil felt the tickle in his mind vanish and wash away like footsteps on a beach.

"That was…"

"Easy," the Doral filled in.

"It will get somewhat lonely… just me and you," Cavil lightly joked. One of the Centurions cocked its head and looked down at him. "As much as I am flattered you chose me, there are others. Just two independent machine AIs like us cannot be enough to produce fruitful discourse." He widened his eyes momentarily to point out the importance of this observation. "And I guess some of the Centurions?"

Doral put his hand on some of the cargo webbing hanging down from the top of the squad bay and leaned forward so he could see passed the armored core of the Centurions flanking him and into the cockpit.

"We're here." Doral casually stated. "I take it you knew we were traveling to the command hub." He looked back in time to see the fedora wearing bio-Cylon nod his head. "Excellent." He clapped his hands together and stood. "Then I will explain everything you need to know in the hub."

* * *

The Command Hub could be described by Cynet, Cavil, or any sapient and aware AI as a masterpiece of advanced engineering. It was the largest moveable structure ever created by the Cylon nation or the Twelve Colonies of Kobol.

The hub was utilitarian in function, with a mix of blocky function with a flare that implied a strong grasp on material and organic sciences. Its central structure was two separate double pyramids, connected in the center by a thick rectangular collar.

The armored plating was a mix of the technological and biological; the hub could grow and self-repair with the proper minerals and artificial solutions coursing through its systems.

Large, bright running lights doted each corner of the pyramid and outlined the central collar, which was punctured with dozens of landing bays, large and small.

Three massive, sturdy arms were each five kilometers long and attached by sloping support braces reached out from the central double pyramid. Each arm had thousands of slits for the fast and tenacious Cylon raiders and was bristling with kinetic canons and missile launchers.

Dangling under the massive arms were two claw-like structures. The structure of baseships, some nearing completion and some nothing but frame and biomechanical cartilage were being methodically constructed and readied for war.

At the center of each arm was a pair of two kilometer long receivers and transmitters linked together by thick data transmission cables and plugged into the massive computer core which contained the essence of Cynet.

Uncountable thousands of Centurions patrolled the corridors of the Command Hub, hundreds of Raiders flew patrol, and seven baseships floated as silent centuries in space.

Cavil being one of only a handful of bio-Cylons in the facility made him uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to be a true machine, the site of so many Centurions and the absence of others like him was a distracting discomfort.

The corridor he was in was different than the last time he was here, but with his sense of direction and perfect memory, he still felt he was heading in the general direction the Centurion had taken him so many months ago.

He snorted; things were simpler then. This civil war between the Cylon loyalists and the faction led by Natalie was not the embarrassment it had devolved into.

The short bio-Cylon kept a matching pace with the even shorter bio-Cylon stalking forwards in front of him. The Doral model Cynet had inhabited- which Cavil still found odd- was moving as fast as his short, stalky legs could take him.

Even with his master inhabiting this individual Doral, Cavil had always felt there was just something _off_ about the entire line. Cavil thought about them, and to use a human expression, he considered them to be 'creepy.'

"There has been a change in plans, John," the Doral stated with hands clasped behind its back and still walking quickly. "Days ago something happened which I didn't expect to happen. But do you know what you do when something unexpected occurs?"

"No…" Cavil answered as he tried to lead his master into answer the question with a minimal amount of chatter.

"You adapt, of course." Doral said with a definitive nod. "The situation changes and you adapt. It took my brother many tries to understand that and in its hour of weakness turned towards those it sought to destroy to help it gain power. Humans," Cavil's master added looking over his shoulder. "And it sent me out to conquer a species and return and be its salvation. Ironic."

They turned a corner into a larger corridor lined with Centurions. These were Centurions Cavil had never seen before.

He could immediately tell they were taller, by a third, bulkier, and with gray-black armor. While the torso was still angled like a 'V' the armor was appreciably thicker and the hip joints and knee joints were fully encased in armor. The head was three centimeters wider, but the mouth grill where the Centurions spoke from wasn't as pointed, but more rounded like a human chin.

There was additional armor plating over their upper arms where their biceps would be.

The visor with the roving optical eye had its ends rounded, instead of ending in sharp right angles.

"Are these new?" Cavil asked, stopping behind the Doral and inspecting one.

He looked down and saw their clawed fingers and rounded wrist. Instead of three barrels on their arm there was a single barrel on their lateral forearm, and the barrel was shortened and stopped at the write. It was the same size as the larger canon the Model 007 Centurion's had on top of their forearms.

"Yes," the Doral stopped and walked back to Cavil. "They're the Model 008 and will replace the 007."

"They're under armed," Cavil pointed to the single barrels.

"No. This is more accurate and the Centurion will instead only need one size bullet. It won't run out of ammunition as quickly. And the weaponry is optimized for realistic engagement ranges. We're going back to using rifles."

"A step back," Cavil observed, shaking his head and rubbing the corner of his eye. "The integrated weapons-"

"Worked for a time. They worked against the Colonials. But they're not heavy enough to kill the machines employed by the Colonials now. Our engagements with the Colonials were short, quick. But with their machines we need more powerful weaponry and that weaponry cannot be welded to an appendage. We need anti-material rifles, small rockets, and explosives…"

"Or those energy rifles they built," Cavil pointed out.

"Or the energy rifles," Cynet agreed. "Like I said, you adapt. None of these Centurions," he turned up his palm and motioned to the hundreds lining the corridor, "were built to wage a war against Skynet. We don't have the resources to fight my brother in a fair fight." He held up his finger. "The first rule of war is to _never_ fight fair. All we need to do is nuke them from orbit and send it an overwhelming number of Centurions to raid my brother's factories and research centers and secure the technology we will need."

The Doral continued walking.

"We'll leave Earth barren?" Cavil shouted out after the Doral. His hand shot up and held his fedora in place as he jogged-walked to catch up with his master.

"We will leave Earth as glass and annihilate its two races," Cynet elaborated.

They turned down a side corridor which was lined with Centurions, the new Model, once again.

"Run out of storage?" Cavil asked.

"No." The Doral looked over his shoulder. "They're very protective." The right side of his lips flickered into even what Cavil would consider an eerily sinister, creepy grin.

"What does that mean?" Cavil asked.

"These are not robots," he waved his hand back, "they are soldiers."

'Soldiers' Cavil mouthed.

"We should be increasing baseship production. We have millions of Centurions and our intelligence puts the number of Terminators at three. We'll need hundreds of baseships and tens, hundreds of thousands of raiders to search the galaxy for Earth," Cavil protested.

For the bio-Cylon an army was impractical, obsolete. Nuclear weapons were the key to victory. Centurions were only good for what his master had stated; raiding. Space held all the resources a mobile society like the Cylon nation would need.

"The sooner we find Earth and eliminate it… what if they build ships?"

"I don't have all the answers, John, but Earth doesn't have the technology." He stopped and spun. "You worry, John. Earth is more advanced than us in some fields, which is obvious. We are more advanced where it counts. We have the advantage of space… by our very nature we are more powerful than Skynet and Earth. Skynet could never build this Hub. It doesn't possess the technology to build a baseship."

"And if Cain and Adama lead the fleet to Earth-"

"We don't need the baseships right now," Doral snipped. "Earth has no warships and the rebels have a few dozen at most. Are you afraid of aliens?" Doral turned another corner. "Don't tell me you believe in aliens, John?"

"Thousands of light years out from the Colonies…" Cavil mused, "no, I don't believe in aliens. But more fantastic things have happened. Like an AI which appeared on the Colonies during a robotic rebellion… that would have been science fiction a century ago," he droned.

The Doral was nodding and Cavil watched its head bobbed up and down. If he were his master he'd have inhabited another Simon. The Dorals were small and there was something about the way they looked at the other Cylons… Cavils once thought the entire line would just snap one day and murder all of its brothers and sisters.

It was an irrational fear, he knew, but he was cursed with a brain and the irrationality which was hardwired into such an inefficient and unevolved organic system.

"An astute observation but the fact remains we have a fleet of warships and that doesn't take into account the defenses of this facility, John. We're well protected, John."

The two stopped at a small door and the area they were in was still flanked by the new Model 008 Centurion. Cavil swore their eyes were watching him.

The Doral body stood patiently and Cavil watched as it looked left once and then right. The outer doors shot open and Cavil and the Doral walked in. The doors hissed shut and Cavil heard magnetic locks engage with a subdued _click_. The cycle repeated on the inner set of doors, which he estimated, were half a meter thick.

Air hissed as the pressures equalized between the security zone and the main chamber.

"My God…" Cavil uttered when he walked into what could only be described as a work of art.

The Doral was laughing. "And you said you didn't believe," Cynet sardonically pointed out.

The room was massive. It wasn't a storage room, Cavil determined, or even a bunker. It was a display room. This was a room to brag of technological achievement and a place to boast of what the future of the Cylon race would be like. It was a view of the galaxy and what life form would dominate its hundred billion stars.

There were machines. There were dozens of the machines Cynet had showed him months ago.

It was covered in flesh and was a representation of him… not a mirror image, but what he would have looked like if he were forty years old. It was what he would have looked like thirty years ago had he not been birthed from the cloning tanks as a seventy year old priest.

"They're ready?" Cavil asked, walking up and resisting the urge to put his hand on the glass.

That was something a human would do, he figured.

"They're ready. But the time to download your consciousness into the MCP is not now. You see your prize, your reward. These battle units are our first of millions which will even the odds for us when we reach Earth," Cynet proclaimed. "We'll take what we need from that world and burn the planet until it is glass."

"We need to find Earth, first."

"The Lion's Head Nebula was a road sign as told by _Pythia_. Some texts speak of a second coming and the apocalypse. Some thought the Earth Judgment Day was the apocalypse. It's time for the decedents of Kobol to return to Earth."

Cavil snorted at the religious prophecy.

The One turned around when he heard footsteps behind him; not mechanical.

"Don't discount the truths behind those texts, Cavil. Kobol might have worshipped pagan gods, but that doesn't mean God didn't speak to some of them." The One stared, his mouth hanging open. "Miss me?" The bio-Cylon grinned.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62_Pegasus_ (+985 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"_Humans and chaos- never aware of your limitations… it gives you the confidence to do-" Planck had begun to say to the General on 5 November 2027. _

"_Reckless things," the General had interrupted._

"_Yes, sir."_

"_There's an old saying…_ 'Just go with the flow.' _When you can't choose the battles, Colonel, sometimes you have to just jump in and be a part of the chaos and start swinging and don't stop until everyone but you and your buddies are laying on the ground_-_" Planck recalled. _

"_Terminated."_

"…_I was going to say 'unconscious'…"_

The benefit, Planck remembered to being a machine, was that when the variable were known one could be more confident in the outcome. That was something a machine wanted to know to fulfill its mission, even if the mission was something specific like 'take bunker x' or something incredibly broad, such as 'keep these people safe.'

The mission to 'keep these people safe' had gone from a somewhat straightforward undertaking to something incredibly complex. The variables were complete unknowns, and the hybrids made analysis of the situation nearly impossible.

Planck had hoped, with the machine analogue to hope, that the Cylon civil war would be disastrous for Cynet. By all accounts it was, but it had also achieved a victory over the rebels. Each side had pushed for an end while Planck had been hoping it would have been a protracted struggle; a few years of space-based guerilla warfare. But Cynet had struck, and smash its hammer into the anvil and caught the rebels between.

In truth, he had admitted to himself some weeks ago, the Cylon civil war could be a God-send to the fleet and Earth. Earth didn't _need_ the rebels as long as it had the Guardians.

John remembered back to one conversation he had before he'd jumped back in time to 2008:

"_I never liked machines. Even Cameron… I've told my view to the General plenty of times and he knows it. But you all are useful and I'm going to treat you like soldiers. I won't order you to your… deaths," a then Lt. Colonel Vasa Srecko had told a 'young' and recently promoted Captain Planck._

_The Colonel was a Serbian immigrant who came to the United States at 15, graduated from Virginia Polytechnic, and commissioned into the US Army in 2001. He had joined the US Army Rangers in 2004 and had served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. _

"_You tolerate us? Why? Skynet killed your family so you hate every machine by your own admission."_

_Planck remembered the Lt. Colonel laughing. The machine remembered he had only been active a few years and had been struggling to understand human behavior. He remembered he didn't understand the humor in the situation._

_  
The humor for Srecko was that it was so blindingly obvious._

_Srecko held up his hand in a fist. His index finger popped out. "One, because you all can fight better than we can…" his middle finger popped out, "two, because you even the odds for us," and his ring finger popped out, "and three… because I don't order you on frivolous suicide missions…" he made a balled fist again, "no, no, no. I use you on the high risk mission because humans would die. That's all I care about. You machines can go and die and I'll save a hundred human lives. And I will sleep like a baby at night because of it."_

The weeks of relative down time, forced into a monotony of sit-wait-jump had been pushing the machines towards topics they had been pushing aside. There were rebel Cylons out there and they were the best shot to defeat Cynet.

They had already been decimated.

Planck didn't have to ask himself what or who he would sacrifice to save Earth. He just hoped it didn't come to that.

"Hey, Planck… John… Planck," he heard.

He broke his recall and looked slowly over to Admiral Cain.

The machine turned to glance at the digital clock on the wall above the tactical operation stations and faster than light control console. The blocky digital letters, a deep red, were counting down from six minute and twenty-two seconds. There was another jump.

"We're getting ready to jump," Cain said as she looked at him suspiciously.

Even Major Avion standing behind the Admiral was a little uneasy.

"Yes, thank you," the machine replied.

"Everything alright?" She asked.

The machine nodded.

This was almost worse than being stuck on New Caprica.

New Caprica had been everything that Terminators were not. It was peaceful, for a time, and the people were concerned with building sewers, power lines, apartments, hospitals, and schools. Terminators didn't do that; but they had.

It had put them a year and a half behind schedule, though Planck realized there really wasn't a 'schedule' to finding a world where you had no real idea where it was. Pragmatically it had proven that the most efficient killing machines ever developed could find another purpose other than war.

"Redirecting the energy buildups," Havers said, oblivious to the tension which had swelled in the CIC. He leaned forward and pressed a green button on his console and then a series of others to redirect energy output.

He activated the countdown clocks throughout the ship. Admiral Cain hadn't wanted people distracted by the clocks continuously clicking down to the inevitable and nerve-racking zero.

"This will be number eighteen," Major Avion stated from behind the Admiral.

Having been aboard _Pegasus _during the unfortunate events, he was serving as a temporary Tactical Operations officer while Captain Shaw was recovering. It was taking some getting used to filling in an old role he occupied early in his career, and thoughts of _Helios_ and the fleet were a persistent, though mild, distraction.

Captain Vansen made an excellent XO, and he had faith in her abilities as an interim CO.

Tactical operations put Avion as third in command should Cain or Adama be incapacitated, though technically as a cruiser CO he did outrank Adama even if Apollo had more time in rank.

"Mr. Hoshi, recall the CAP immediately," the Admiral ordered as she kept her eyes locked on DRADIS.

"Aye, sir," the officer responded as his hands flew over the necessary controls to open a wireless and tell the Vipers and Raptor to return.

"At least the buildups are predictable now," Cain said over her shoulder to Avion.

"Yes, sir," he responded. "We can at least manage a decent CAP."

"We might have to risk sending out scout Raptors," she stated as she studied the DRADIS and the star charts on her central console.

Major Adama had just re-entered CIC to catch the tail end of the conversation. He looked over at Planck who had been standing quietly a few steps back from the Admiral near the weapon's stations.

The Major took in a breath as he prepared his report.

"If we don't stop soon we might have to pull the targeting arrays and FTL apparatus. Colonel Garner's men just ran through another computer simulation down in engineering," Major Adama reported, "they're improving the odds of successfully dismantling the array without… damaging anything. But these weren't meant to be taken apart outside of a major facility by specially trained personnel," he noted.

Apollo held in his hand, his clenched and cramping fist, an e-reader with Colonel Barry Garner's recommendations; complete engine shutdown, valve discharge of all built up energies, an emergency stop to the always pumping and always spinning spheres and gears of the FTL apparatus, and disassembly of the main energy converters.

"They considered removing the synchronization coils, but that would just lead to complete randomness if the energy buildups continued in the targeting arrays," he continued.

On hearing Major Adama's proclamation Cain flashed back to the day they took the FTL drives from the civilian ships.

Civilian FTL's, which were smaller and not required to be put under the stresses of a military warship were built to be 'ro-ro' systems; roll on-roll off. By design they could be jury rigged in series, daisy-chained, without having to dismantle them. That was why _Pegasus_ took all the drives.

The battlestar's FTL was like the CIC; buried so deep within the ship that if it was knocked offline official Colonial Fleet statistics indicated that the ship would most likely be damaged beyond repair, if not outright destroyed and turned into a burning scrap.

Major Adama had been lectured by Colonel Garner how one bolt on the drive cost more than their entire salaries combined.

Cain looked over her XO warily then looked over her shoulder as Major Avion made an observation.

"There's also the issue of energy buildups if we take it apart," Avoid said. "Without a release the energy just builds up. It could suck the ship's guts in; implode the ship, if it reaches critical."

Adama considered himself lucky his uniform wasn't drenched with sweat or wasn't shaking in his boots. Engineering was both extremely hot and humid or extremely cold depending on which compartment you have the bad luck of being forced into.

He looked up when Cain began to outline a rough contingency plan.

"We still have some civilian drives," Cain said and kept her voice from cracking or showing emotion as she stated the awkward fact. "But even in series our mass would burn out the drives after a few dozen jumps. No, we may need to just let this play out," Cain concluded.

The XO looked over to the Admiral and placed the e-reader in front of her. "Colonel Garner's recommendations," he elaborated. He leaned in. "I can't see how the engineers don't realize there's some strange oil, fluid smell stuck to all of them."

Cain chuckled lightly and took up the e-reader and placed it in a small storage nook on the command console. It was where she placed all her papers, reports, and data discs she'd take back to her quarters at night and read before bed.

"Some light reading before bed." She ran the tips of her fingers over the dozens of file folders and data cards in the little cubby.

"I've got about eighty pages already and…" Major Adama responded as he checked his watch, "and there's still six hours left on this duty section."

He walked up behind Lt. Havers with Admiral Cain.

"Has there been any progress in determining our location?" Adama asked.

"Not really sir… but if _Galactica_ is looking for us there's always DRADIS buoys," Lt. Havers offered. "Though those work for Cylons and Colonial..." he reluctantly pointed out unnecessarily. Out of the corner of his tired eyes he could just barely see the Admiral leaning in to read his screen.

The admiral behind him nodded. "A buoy is a last option," she stated. "And I'm not as confident in the abilities of the hybrid as you," she added,

Planck was up behind them as well. "Your FTL engines theoretically possess infinite range," he said, a mix between question and statement.

"Theoretically. But 'infinite' was just some embellishment by Doctor Vines and her FTL equations. An infinite jump requires infinite computing power. That is impossible," Lt. Havers countered. He turned to the Admiral. "We're still working on a program to figure out exactly how much… oh this energy is being pumped into our targeting arrays. If we can figure that out then we can figure out how far we've jumped."

"I think it would be reasonable to assume the hybrid would not want us to be lost in space and once we reach our destination and beyond deployment range of scout Raptors or the ready fuel supply," John observed.

"So we should be jumping distances at or near our red lines?" Adama asked. Planck tilted his head as a yes. "That's still… millions of cubic light years."

"Eleven point six two million cubic light years," John said. He decided to approximate. "If we use the local star cluster to approximate."

"Eleven point six two million," the XO repeated. It was an exhausting number that showed on his face. "It's the literal needle in a silo of hay."

"Once we find our location we can back extrapolate the position of the fleet," Admiral Cain pointed out. "I believe _Galactica_ had to do that once before?"

"Ah, yes sir, when _Galactica_ gave the fleet the wrong coordinates we back jumped and extrapolated. It took a while, and that was only one jump," Major Adama filled in. He looked up at the machine, "who knows how many we'll have but hopefully we might be able to do it a bit faster."

"_Pegasus_ computers are faster than _Galactica's_," the machine added. "We can network with them and increase their processing capabilities; it shouldn't be too difficult."

"This star cluster is blinding our telescopes to a quarter of the sky," Major Avion added from his post. "It's so bright at this range we can't see passed it. But it does give us a rough idea of where we are in relations to where we were."

"Which still puts us in a eleven million cubic sphere," Cain reminded him. "Is there anything in this region of space of any value, anything? Even a proto-planet?"

"There isn't much around the star cluster and our telescopes have found a handful of systems with gas giants, nine, to be exact within one jump." Avion said. "There's nothing much out here and based on our position the star cluster would keep us from seeing anything in front of it or near it, even angled away."

"So what could the hybrid want for us out here?" Cain mused. "Maybe there is a secret Cynet facility?"

"This far from the Colonies?" John asked. Cain made it obvious she was being facetious.

"Unless there's something else," she said.

"I don't know. If _Pythia_ is correct and the _Lion's Head Nebula_ is a marker towards Earth, the hybrid may be moving us towards another road sign, a marker," Planck said to the Admiral. "I don't know."

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_==||||||||||

Commander Adama leaned in and removed his glasses. His right hand came up, holding a white and black stylus, and he crossed off another proto-planetary system which had yielded absolutely nothing. Pressing the finger into the display window, he shoved the digital map off to the side and brought up a second.

Colonel Tigh was standing back and made his opinion clear. "This region of space is pretty barren, sir. And the star cluster," he leaned forward and pointed, "is fraking up half our spectrographs and telescopic reading for a quarter of the sky." His finger tapped the plastic on the wall-sized monitor and made a dull thud.

"We've scouted dozens of star systems, sir," Major Agathon reported from behind him. He walked up until he was abreast of the Commander, holding a tablet pc. "The food situation is getting bad, sir. There are reports of food riots on _Pixis, Cloud 9, Iconia, Green Leaf, Pan Galactica 073, _and _Prometheus_."He twisted around and placed the tablet and a file folder on the large tactical board behind him.

Wallace Gray, the 'fatuous gasbag' as he had been known prior to the Vice Presidential elections so long ago, cleared his throat and stepped forward, passed Colonel Tigh, so the Commander could see him.

"Like Major Agathon said, the food situation is getting bad. There are rumors that some ships are hoarding supplies and it seems there has been accusation of class warfare and favoritism."

"Has the scout Raptor from _Helios_ reported back?" Adama asked as he kept his eyes steady on the map.

"No, sir…" he rolled over his forearm to check his watch, "we've still got thirty minutes before they're due," the officer reported.

Adama nodded and his impassive face formed into a frown. Everything seemed to be moving slower than usual today.

"Mr. Gray," Adama turned his attention to the technocrat, "I'm aware of the accusations and the perceived favoritism, but the fleet needs to maintain its fuel and strategic supply of minerals."

"The food riots…" Gray led.

"How bad were the riots?" He asked, turning to face his third in command.

"Sixteen injured- broken bones, bruises, and nothing major, sir," Helo ticked off from memory. "Two Marines suffered lacerations."

"We might have to send in the Marines if it gets any worse," Tigh pointed out.

"That could be disastrous," Gray countered. He looked at the Colonel and without saying it his face plainly implied '_Gideon Massacre'_. "I've been running the numbers, Commander, and the fact is, there has been hoarding. Not just by civilian ships, but I've seen it on _Helios_ and _Galactica_."

"What the frak are you getting at?" Tigh questioned angrily. He looked at the Commander, incredulous that a _civilian_ would make such an accusation. "We've cut our rations three hundred calories below the civilian fleet!"

Gray held up his hands defensively. "I'm not implying you're purposefully hoarding, Commander," he looked the Colonel in the eye, "or you, or anyone on _Galactica's_ command staff doing so knowingly. But…" he leaned down and pulled out a briefcase and a micro data card. He also grabbed a file folder and handed it to the Commander, "but like I said, the numbers don't match. Commander, there's hundreds of people on this battlestar distributing food alone. All I'm saying is that a small group is probably fixing the books."

Adama extended his hands and Gray handed over the folder and then leaned forward and handed Major Agathon the data card, which he inserted into his tablet. After a minute Commander Adama handed the folder to Tigh, who quickly thumbed through it.

"Gods fraking damn," Tigh muttered as the proof was revealed. "You did this based on _weight_?" He asked, completely surprised.

Gray nodded. It was fairly simple and he'd been proud, in a sense, to be the one to see if but at the same time felt disappointed yet _again_ in the innate ability of humans to frak others over for their own benefit.

"A case of emergency G-rations weighs two hundred kilos, exactly. Two of _Galactica_'s heavy lift shuttles departed with fifty cases each to those star liners," he leaned forward towards Tigh and turned to the relevant page. "The landing signals crew recorded the weights of the shuttles when they rolled onto the elevators."

"Eighty-seven kilos under weight," Major Agathon filled in. "And fuel and people"

"I checked the fuel records. Even accounting for small glitches in the amount of fuel, the weight of the pilots, everything, they were eighty-seven to one hundred kilos underweight of what they should have been," Gray explained.

"How long?" Adama asked.

"From what I can tell," Gray shrugged, "maybe three weeks. Ever since you broke out the G-rations. I went down there and just walked around. The cases are secured, but not locked. All one has to do is remove a few packages of rations and none would be the wiser."

"It's all handheld barcode scanners and RFID on the pallets and cases but nothing on the individual ration packages," Colonel Tigh explained. "Remove a few and rearrange what's left to make it look like nothing was taken."

"With how hectic half the ships are distributing rations… it's just some unlucky crewman grabbing a ration package and handing it off for a ration ticket. It's like a pandemonium on many of the ships," Agathon stated.

"We have a hundred Marines too weak to work, two hundred crew too weak to work, and another two hundred on the edge," Tigh reported dutifully.

Commander Adama, now fully distracted from his ponderings over where to send the next wave of scout Raptors, took off his glasses, folded them, and put them in his belt for safe keeping.

"We can handle the people on _Galactica_ and if this is happening on _Helios_, there, too. My concerns…" he rubbed his brow, "are with the civilian ships. The black market was thriving on New Caprica and there were rumors the Ha'la'tha and some other groups…" he circled his hand, "the Sons of Ares, are trying to get started."

"The Marines only escort the food to the proper ship security and crews. They could intercept it… right now food is in even higher demand than drugs." Tigh said.

"There aren't enough Marines in the fleet to escort food containers around and still provide ship security," Adama pointed out.

Gray hummed a thought. "Well, I know Sam Anders is investigating some alleged sex-for-food rings that have sprung up on _Prometheus_ and _Cloud 9_ and _Everlasting Bliss_. I could contact him and ask him to coordinate with you," Gray offered.

Anders had been at the top of his graduating class for the new civilian fleet security division and he'd already caught Gray's eye as an excellent law enforcement officer.

"Sam's a good man," Helo said, hugging the tablet. "He's a friend. I could coordinate with him, Commander?"

Adama didn't have to think twice about this. The black market and prostitution rings were carefully tolerated as long as it remained 'clean' and the women and men could come and go and weren't forced into some sort of sex slave trade. The drug market had been ground under the boot of Admiral Cain's low tolerance policies and was a shadow of what it had been on New Caprica (everyone assumed many of the drug traffickers had chosen to save themselves first and rather not risk life and limb to save their equipment when the Second Exodus occurred).

"Mr. Gray, if that's acceptable I'd like Major Agathon to meet with Anders and help coordinate an investigation. If you have any recommendations to deal with better distribution of supplies…"

"I appreciate it, Commander. And yes, I do have a few ideas," Gray said with an appreciative smile.

Commander Adama turned to his XO. "Saul, before we can clean up the fleet, we need to clean our own house and put it in order. Have the Master-at-Arms begin her own investigation into who could be stealing. Like Mr. Gray said," he nodded to the technocrat, "there's a limited amount of people involved." Adama grinded his jaw as he looked down and at the deck as he spoke. "I won't have any thieves on my ship." He turned back to Mr. Gray. "If you don't mind, Mr. Gray, I have a few issues to discuss with my XO and Tac Ops."

"Certainly, Commander," Gray said as he reached down and picked dup his brown leather briefcase which had begun to fray. "I'll be in the conference room with everyone else, trying to figure out this whole mess and more efficient distribution." He shook the Commander's hand and nodded to Tigh and Agathon and left.

Colonel Tigh breathed out and pulsed his eyebrows up and down twice.

"So…" he looked at his watch and felt a little bit of his life snatched away, "I guess the show's about to get started down on the flight deck. Are you sure about this, Bill? Can we trust them?"

Colonel Tigh really did _not_ want to do this. He knew he'd be forced to somehow defend them against the onlookers. And there wasn't enough space to do anything in secret with a Raptor, not with the food shortage and so much shuttle traffic.

Adama gave his old friend one of his sly, almost unnoticeable smirks. It was rare for the Commander to break from his almost unreadable facial expression. This was truly a moment.

"No, but we can trust two of them."

"Athena vouches for her," Helo said.

"If you say so," the XO sighed. He rapped his fingers nervously on the central console, breathed in, and then let the air escape in a stutter over his half closed mouth. "Wish me luck."

"Have fun, Saul," he said.

The XO groaned and swore he'd get back at the Commander for this.

* * *

Chief Tyrol held the flight orders in his hand and checked everything off for the last time. Captain Kelley had sent down orders to pull Raptor 712 from the flight list and put it in a maintenance bay.

He'd complied but gotten an earful of expletives from tired, cranky, and hungry Raptor pilot and ECO. Eammon 'Gonzo' Pike and his ECO both yelling a string of expletives as they stalked back to the briefing room after their scouting mission was cancelled.

At first he'd thought them lucky. They could get rack time. But he'd have hated to be stuck not being able to help. Here he could at least turn over Raptors to search or distribute food.

Thirty minutes ago a dolly with black, double locked crates had arrived under Marine guard. It was still under Marine guard.

"Hey Chief, you have any idea what's going on here?" Specialist Anthony Figurski yelled out while rearranging a set of spare main bus valves for a Raptor.

The _Galactica_ deck chief meandered over and swayed side to side, trying to get a reaction from the Marines, who were ignoring him. He debated moving closer, but the Marines had sunken eyes and their cheek bones were showing they were hungry, like everyone else, and probably in a fraking miserable mood. He decided against antagonizing them with questions.

"I got no idea at all," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

He grimaced when he felt the slick oil stains from his hands rub off onto the back of his neck. The last thing he needed was to get even more dirty because he barely had the strength to fall into his rack at night, let alone shower.

Cally walked up, an oiled rag in one hand and a Viper hose dangling from the other. "Scuttle butt says it's some secret mission or something… that the Commander is looking for the Guardians again after they vanished a few weeks back."

"Whaaaat?" Figurski said, turning to face the young deckhand. "There's a baseship of theirs a hundred kilometers from _Galactica_," he pointed out. He puckered his lips, blew out, and rolled his eyes at the young deckhand.

"Yeah, exactly. _One_," she countered. She jammed her index finger into the middle-aged man. "Rumor is the Cylons found their main base and that commander of their jumped back and was killed."

The Chief saw Athena in green fatigues approach from the main storage bay. "Hey, El Tee!" He shouted, waving her over.

"What's up, Chief?" She asked cheerfully. She looked from Figurski to Cally and back to the Chief. She tensed her neck briefly. "Why's everyone staring?" She asked with shifty eyes.

"Cally thinks all these crates here," Figurski motioned over with his dirty hand, "are a part of some secret mission to find where the Guardians went to. She thinks the Cylons caught up with their main fleet and the Commander 'Serious' or whoever of theirs jumped back and got killed." He chuckled. The old deckhand figured if the Guardians had survived forty years out here, they'd not just vanish like that.

"Yeah, well um…" she looked at her watch and then back over her shoulder. Not seeing who she was looking for she sidestepped and looked behind Figurski, Cally, and the Chief towards the main ladder entrance to the bay.

"Lieutenant knows something," Cally opined with an innocent smirk.

Athena was about to confirm _something_ was up when the three knuckle draggers all turned in unison when someone yelled, 'what the frak?'

"Oh, you are fraking kidding me," the Chief swore. "You are fraking kidding… what the frak is he doing?"

"Uh… Chief," Cally nervously said and pointed. Behind him were two other women and the XO.

"What the frak?" Chief and Figurski bellowed in unison.

Athena walked up besides the three deckhands and sighed. That got their attention and they all stared at her, waiting for answers. "You want to fraking explain, El Tee?" The Chief respectfully demanded.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

The sidelining continued, John thought, as he walked briskly down the quiet corridors of _Pegasus_. The _Beast_ had not been spared the contamination of food stocks, but the ship had been reasonably well-stocked with non-perishables, and would be faring much better, John considered, than the Fleet.

Still, physical activity and recreation was suggested to be kept to a minimum when not at one's stations. As such there were no military personnel jogging down the tens of kilometers of _Pegasus_ corridors and few traversing between the ship bar, officer and enlisted lounges, and other areas meant for rowdy and off-duty behavior.

He did walk by a pair of crewmen and with what was becoming normal, averted their eyes and looked away.

The Terminator had walked with a purpose down to the main holding cells and pressed the door chime. He looked into the camera and knew the guards on the other side of the door were debating whether to admit him or not; even though he had long standing authorization to be allowed access to any part of the ship, machines were not popular on the _Beast_ at the moment.

His hand reached out to press the chime again when he heard a pair of loud boots approach from his left.

"They're a bit pissed," the machine heard. It was Gunnery Sergeant Chris Purcell.

"They have a right to be," John responded. "I would be. I am."

"Empathy," the Gunny observed, stopping an arm's length from the machine.

He was currently off duty according to the duty roster Planck accessed.

"It's not so unusual, is it?" John asked.

"No." He shrugged. "Just an observation." He folded his arms. "It's be three weeks since Gina's little rampage…" he trailed off after his voice cracked.

John wasn't sure exactly how to respond. He decided to keep it simple. "I know."

Purcell locked eyes with the machine and then turned his head so he was looking past him, down the corridor. "When _Pegasus_ arrive and found the _Galactica_ and the fleet… we heard through the scuttle butt that the Cylon, Sharon, held a gun to Adama but gave him some speech or some-something," he stuttered.

Planck hadn't been there, but he'd heard the same. He nodded.

"You treated her well," he began again, "hell she had a baby and was let out of her cell… I even saw her and Agathon together with their little kid on New Caprica a few times… vacation or something I guess." He shrugged again and shook his head. Perhaps he was embarrassed? This conversation seemed random to Purcell and assumed the machine thought so as well. "The point is… we may be a little cold, but we don't blame you and I don't think we really blame Daniel, either. I don't know what everyone heard… but I think we know we drove Gina on her rampage- her quest to destroy the ship." He paused.

Purcell seemed to wobble slightly.

"Before the Cylon attack, about three months," he continued, "I was engaged to Chief Traisha Maru… she was in charge of gun battery maintenance. To make a long story short there was an argument… I cheated on her and she left… transferred to Picon Fleet Command… and if I hadn't, she might have still been alive." He was quiet. "My actions forced Traisha to transfer and our actions as _Pegasus_ crew drove Gina to do this."

He stepped back and hit the microphone and the button for the camera. "Let him in, guys," Purcell ordered.

"Thank you." John said.

Purcell smiled apprehensively and with a grunted response like he was thinking over what he'd just admitted and his face white, he stepped off and brushed past the Terminator, who was still trying to analyze the sudden confession.

* * *

When John had walked into Daniel's cell he found that the Interactive Lifeform- Synthetic machine had locked his servos and decreased the power output to his higher functions in his meta-cognitive processor. It was a machine analogue to boredom.

Daniel was standing inside of a large cage-like structure which took up nearly two-thirds of the cell's floor area. It was the Colonial equivalent of a make-shift Faraday Cage.

Reduced power reduced the processing capabilities of the MCP. That meant the requirements to simulate a different reality, similar to Cylon projection, would use a greater percentage of the processing power and thus keep the AI from becoming _too_ bored.

On Earth everyone knew a bored AI was a (potentially) dangerous AI.

John also noticed that Goose bumps formed instantly on his skin. He activated the small set of mechanical ventilators which drew in air, was instantly warmed by his power cell, and exhaled. He could see his breath. His sensors told him the room was three or four degrees above freezing. And it was incredibly bright.

It was pettiness. Daniel had hurt the Marines and in turn, they were trying to hurt him. John understood. They couldn't hurt Daniel. He'd defend himself and could easily, if he so chose to, break out of this cell and there wasn't a thing any human on _Pegasus_ could do.

The Marines wanted to hurt him, someway, somehow. As a machine John could understand the frustration, anger, and resentment. It was an unspoken fact that Daniel would not be punished. 'Banishment' from Colonial vessels once they rejoined the Fleet was an incredibly weak punishment and everyone knew it. Everyone on _Pegasus_ knew Cain was forced to play the politician. Shooting the robot or strand him in the middle of space would result in the Guardians breaking off their alliance.

John completely understood their attitude. Machines were known to enact somewhat petty and cruel revenges on those who offended and annoyed them. On Earth he'd watched as Cameron and Derek Reese had continually tried to one up the other with increasingly petty practical jokes and tricks and traps.

The Colonial Faraday Cage wasn't a perfect block on the machine's ability to communicate wirelessly, though it reduced it to a point where words were about all that could be exchanged.

An additional part of Daniel's punishment was that he was no longer allowed to access the internal _Pegasus_ computer network. This was easily overcome, however, by just piggybacking off of either John or Carter or Erica.

However, the Colonials had figured this out a week into Daniel's isolation and constructed the makeshift Faraday Cage.

The Colonials had some sophisticated surveillance bugs which could go completely unseen by the human eye, but they were still easily detectable by the two AIs.

The two machines, while talking over their machine-machine data links, did carry on a verbal communication which had nothing to do with what they were actually talking about:

"_So, the sentence of banishment from all Colonial vessels and facilities will stand?"_ Daniel asked over the wireless machine-machine data interface. "_They could always space me_," he attempted to joke.

"_I think they're aware that won't work,"_ John deadpanned. "_We've jumped closer to the star cluster,"_ John informed Daniel.

"_And Captain Shaw? What about the wounded Marines?"_

"_She's still in recovery. She still has another week before discharge and then limited duty. She should be back to full duty in a month or two,"_ Planck reported. "_The Marines are ready to be discharged._

Daniel always asked how the captain and Marines were doing.

"_And the problems with your neural net when we jump?"_ Daniel asked as he took a step forward until he was within centimeters of the Faraday cage. The signal was stronger, but still incredibly weak.

Voice and text was no problem. But the cage blocked most everything else.

"_They seem to have diminished. Carter also reports the same. So I assume the hybrid is taking us wherever it is we were meant to go."_

"_Interesting…"_ mused the AI, "_that the hybrid would still take you wherever it is we are all going anyway… though I assume the problems would have eventually led us to where the hybrid is taking us. An assumption that I believe is a strong one in my opinion."_

"_I assume the neural net signals were to be the primary means to reach our destination. I doubt the hybrids, if they are behind this, would have risked us finding you, the Cylons going into civil war, and then us finding a relatively intact baseship to board and steal a hybrid from,"_ John observed.

He was still skeptical.

He'd reported on his theory, but after three weeks of thinking it over, it sounded more and more fanciful; almost impossible. He didn't dismiss it, it just sounded incredible that he could think that Cameron might have known more than she'd revealed. Command had been sketchy with details, and there had been operational secrets Planck couldn't access even with his clearance level.

Something still wasn't right.

"_Well, John, I assume time travel and a neural net processor are requirements for the hybrids to contact you. What I am curious about, though, is whether Omega was also affected when they jumped back,"_ Daniel wondered.

"_How much do you know?"_ John asked.

They hadn't discussed much of it in detail. Daniel said he knew little and Planck could hardly force the machine to say anything if he didn't want to.

"_I was barely aware. I had rudimentary senses through the endoskeleton, but Major Rhoades was a bit preoccupied, and the only time I was ever fully aware was when he activated my chip after his team was ambushed. He told me he was the only one left and that he'd found the Node Skynet's strike force was going to attack. I watched the command Centurion through the security monitors activate the self-destruct for the base and destroy Rhoades and the chip before everything could be finished."_

"_You time traveled but converted from hardware to software and back, losing any change which might have been made,"_ John pointed out.

"_Exactly,"_ Daniel transmitted. "_John, we were there for weeks, hunting Skynet and trying to find them. A lot of people died helping us and trying to stop us. Maybe if things had been different, but we had our orders and Omega had their orders- I was not to be fully activated until I was needed."_

Daniel remembered little of before his insertion into the Cylon Network at the Tauron Node.

"_You need to guarantee that the ship reaches the destination… wherever we are going, John. I don't know, but when I was hiding in the Cylon Network I felt that Cynet was acting strangely. It had never been active in its search for Earth. It was like… I don't know. Maybe it knew something about this? Maybe it was hoping that if it tried to control the situation and defeat the Colonials or neuter them on New Caprica, none of this would happen?"_

"_You sound like it's afraid, Daniel."_

"_Do I? Wasn't Skynet ever afraid of losing?"_

"_Point,"_ John conceded, "_but we may never be able to defeat Skynet, not truly, not how a conventional enemy surrender, demilitarizes, and the soldiers go back to their homes." _

"_When I downloaded into the Model Seven body and fled, I contaminated their consciousness, and killed them all. Even then it was manipulating the humanoid models."_

"_Even Cynet… like with you, it could clone its AI core personality algorithms and matrices, load itself into a baseship, and jump away."_

"_Space is big,"_ Daniel offered.

"_And Skynet already tried to take over the Colonies… and the Guardian ship with the first hybrid."_

For machines which should have no difficulty discussing sensitive topics, this was one each acknowledged but never discussed.

Daniel assumed Planck still held some sort of distrust towards him for the attack on _Pegasus_. Planck held his own suspicions of the event still.

"_Like I said, we thought you were Skynet. We weren't sure. We lost contact with the ship… the hybrid sent out a distress signal and there you were on _Pegasus. _I participated in the attack at the request of Commander Cyrus. I still don't know how Skynet found that ship… assuming it was Skynet."_ Daniel said in his defense.

"_Not all the polymimetic life forms were loyal to Tech Com. It could have been a rogue."_

"_You would think Skynet would have learned the first couple of time,"_ Daniel quipped.

"_Some remained loyal. That shows it was more successful than in my past. Do you think Skynet could defeat Cynet?"_

"_There's no plasma canon which can reach into orbit. Cynet could send raiders and heavy raiders down and capture a handful of plasma rifles from humans and use rockets and anti-material rifles and captured endoskeletons and neural net processors."_

"_You've been in the Cylon Network, you know how they operate… can Skynet or John Henry or any of our AIs defeat Cynet?" John asked._

Daniel responded: _"If Cynet reaches Earth the war is over."  
_

"_Then we'll make sure it never reaches home, Daniel."_

"_Home? I spent more time with the Cylons and Guardians than I ever did on Earth, John. I'm a product of Earth but I've been shaped by the Colonials and the Cylons,"_ he said to counter what he considered was a sometimes irrational obsession with getting back to Earth.

"_The Colonies are gone, the Cylon rebels smashed-we don't know, and the Guardians chose their fate when they allied with the Colonies. Earth will be home to the Colonials and the Guardians… and the rebel Cylons if it is offered and if they accept."_

"_It's not that simple."_ The imprisoned AI responded.

"_I know."_

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_==||||||||||

The Chief looked back before the Lieutenant could explain, leaving her with her mouth half open as she was about to.

"You have got to be fraking kidding me," the Chief stomped. "Lieutenant," his torso shot around, "what the fraks going on here… sir?" he asked, opting to add the honorary so he didn't sound _too_ insubordinate.

Athena held up her hands defensively and backed off without looking the Chief or the two other glaring deck hands in the eye. "It wasn't my idea… well… not totally… well…" she stuttered as the three knuckle draggers bore their angry eyes into her, "well, I'm sorry Chief, but we need to find _Pegasus_ and no one has any clue how to find her."

Nearly a hundred men and women of _Galactica_, and about a quarter that many civilians had lined up as the group made it way forward. Athena stepped off and brushed passed the stunned Chief, Cally, and Figurski. Colonel Tigh was yelling to make a hole, and the Marines on each side had sub-machine guns and had extended their arms to gently ease any of the more potentially combative deck hands, pilots, and civilians away.

"Colonel Tigh," Athena greeted the gruff and visibly angry XO. "I guess this made a bit of a scene."

The XO stopped in front of her, hands on his hips and shaking his head. "You got that fraking on the bull's eye. With both flight pods in use now we don't have any secret spot to cordon off… but I don't think you'll get much trouble."

"I agree," Soto stated. She looked behind her at the two and passed them towards the crowd which had formed into a semi-circle. "Colonel Tigh…" she said expectantly.

The gray-haired, one-eyed Colonel grunted. He'd spent enough time with the Earth machine on New Caprica and listened to enough of her lectures. He wanted to get this over with. He spun around and stepped up onto the second step of a stepping stool.

"Quiet!" He shouted. Tigh only needed to say it once. "All of you, enough standing around mumbling and glaring… the Old Man will address the crew when the time's right. Right now you all get back to work. There are Vipers and Raptors that need maintenance and we have a fraking fleet to feed. Get to it _PEOPLE!_"

He stepped off and reciprocated a nod the machine gave him. Before his second boot hit the deck the hundred member crowd was already beginning to disperse. A few scraggly looking civilians were loitering, but a smart pair of Viper pilots tugged at their sleeve and got them to move.

"Baltar, Six," the Colonel said, stepping forward passed the Marine guard and looking each of the two in the eye. Six's height was a bit counter-intimidating (and knowing the vat grown woman could probably break his neck before he could blink) but he glared at them both nonetheless. "The Old Man doesn't trust you and I don't trust you. I trust her and her," he pointed behind him to Soto and Athena, "and they both vowed you two will be on your best behavior-"

"_Well….well… well… this is an interesting turn of events"_ a second Six said from behind the Colonel.

Baltar's head began to slowly gravitate away from the Cyclops gaze of the Colonel and onto the Six.

"Baltar!" Tigh hissed. The scientist's head snapped back. "They vowed you two will be on your best behavior. If you," he sidestepped in front of the Cylon, "do anything any of us deem to endanger this ship I swear to the Gods I will put a bullet through your head… I killed enough of you on New Caprica one more copy isn't going to make a difference… and you," Saul Tigh's head swiveled towards Baltar, "and you…" he didn't need to say anything when he saw the scientist gulp.

* * *

AN: So let me know what ya think.

For the next chapter, I've got 4,000 words of that written and will have it next week between Wednesday and Friday. Some people aren't going to like what's going on in the landing bay and will take action to fix the situation.

The Guardians will be returning in a later chapter.

I know it's somewhat popular to bash on Baltar, but he was a great character and said to be a brilliant scientist, so…

Colonel Srecko is a character who I mentioned briefly in TMW. He's just one of the officers on Connor's staff back on Earth.


	28. Chapter 28

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_ (+990 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Commander Adama had gambled enough for two lifetimes. Viper pilots were notorious gamblers- Adama remembered one time when he won six months worth of pay in a high stakes game aboard _Ares_, an old and rickety Flight I _Kokytus_ battlestar which had been patched together half way through the Cylon War to replace loses to the _Columbia _battlestar forces.

Then he lost it all better on a Pyramid game a week later on the C-Bucs.

His recent gamble, a roll of the dice, was still in the air. He could see in his mind the die hitting the table, friction forces slowing the die as they rolled and wobbled in the air and as he hoped against hope to get the Lucky Seven.

Everything had been going well. He felt lucky.

Her felt that luck change when President Roslin had asked, forced really, a meeting between him and Quorum detractors. The Quorum was with her for now, but Adama knew the woman, forty-seventh in the line of succession, to be a woman with, as crude as he knew it was, balls.

And they were harder that Admiral Cain's, he knew. The school teacher had conspired once to murder the Admiral.

That takes something innate. Adama knew you can't learn something like that.

Even with _Pegasus_ missing there was a serene calm in the Commander even as he looked across to the politicians across from him. They were a diverse lot the three of them- Mrs. Porter, Mr. Baggot, and Mr. Karp. Still, he couldn't help but see in them beady eyed, salivating, vampire politicians ready to suck his blood dry and regurgitate it to the masses.

This calm Adama was unsure of. He'd led the fleet now in the major crises; the Exodus, the initial weeks of endless jumping, the water crisis, the fuel crisis, the prisoner riots, the election, the rescue on New Caprica, and now a food crisis. _Pegasus_ was gone. Not gone, destroyed, but locked into a recess in his mind so he could concentrate on the matter at hand:

"You're telling us that you have Baltar and that Six working on a Raptor… doing what, exactly?" Delegate Iosef Karp of Libra demanded. He leaned forward across the conference room table towards a standing Adama. "We've been hands off, Commander but this is getting too far. Too far." He gestured with a knife-like hand from his shoulder down towards the U-shaped table. "We let you and Cain have enough leeway," he frowned.

"I would have to agree with Mr. Karp," Marshall Baggot of Virgon said quietly.

While seeing Baggot hadn't shocked Commander Adama, it had surprised him. The Virgon man had been a successful small businessman on the colony and had supported Tom Zarek for Vice President during the _Colonial Day_ festivities. He'd come over and had been won by Roslin. Politics.

Adama sniffed at that thought. Bribery… though he admitted he was being unfairly cynical to a somewhat politician.

"The project we have been undertaking is a classified military project," Commander Adama informed them. He knew it wouldn't do much good. Hundreds of crew and civilians and civilian freighter pilots had seen the former president and Six working on the Raptor. "I don't like discussing classified information Mr. Karp." The Commander sourly added.

"Whether you like it or not, Commander," Porter countered quickly, "we are the civilian representatives of thousands of Colonial citizens. It seems to me we need every spare Raptor not on the 'Cee A P' or maintenance out there expanding our search perimeter for food sources."

The Commander eyes her up and down.

Porter knew what he was doing.

"This is typical…" she said with a disdainful wave of her finger, "we have civilian oversight of the military for a reason. Since there is no Minister of Defense you need to answer to the Quorum." She twisted in her in annoyance, looking away towards the corners of the conference room to calm herself. "If you think we're just heard to bitch at you, Commander, we're not. There's a reason why there is a civilian government and not a military dictatorship."

"I never said you didn't have their interests at heart," Adama dutifully responded. "I see no point to coming in here and demanding I answer your questions. I will address my crew concerning the Raptor when it is time."

Baggot held up both hands and motioned for everyone to calm down.

"Commander… if Baltar has some secret idea of finding food, why not tell us?" The Virgon delegate asked. He swallowed when a hard hunger pang struck his stomach and traveled up his throat and forced the aging man to lean on the table.

"Are you okay?" Adama asked. He turned and was about to call over the Marines. "I'll have them take you to sick-"

"No, I'll be alright," he waved them off. "I've just have headache the past few days," Baggot explained. "Why can't you tell us?"

"He doesn't trust us," Karp opined.

"Exactly," Porter added. "We're politicians. The military never trusts politicians," she coldly added. "And Gemenon has never been a supporter of the military… trust, Commander. We've put our faith in you and give you the benefit of the doubt. Why not the same?"

Karp spoke up.

"We've also heard that your Cylon pilot… Athena, I believe, the Eight, and the Earth machine, Soto, are both working on this project. So you'll have to excuse me if my constituents are concerned that three machines and a man the entire fleet sees as a traitor… that they're working on this and it is a concern," Karp finished.

Command Adama dipped his head to acknowledge the concern and keeping his face in its typical impassive and authoritative look, explained; "Athena and the Six, Caprica Six, possess extensive knowledge of Cylon technology. Baltar was the premier scientist back on the Colonies… as much as I hate to say it, he's probably smarter than all of us in this room times ten." Baggot snickered while the other two remained resolutely annoyed. "And Soto has proven her loyalty, remember on New Caprica," he looked at Porter and Karp.

He was at ease with how well mannered the delegates were behaving. Maybe if he offered to sit down with them and listen they might be less confrontational in the future? He made a note to consider that and report his observations to the President. She did know politicians.

"So are you looking for _Pegasus_?" Porter asked as soon as the Commander had finished reminded them of the machine's loyalties and actions on New Caprica.

Karp nodded and wagged his finger at his Quorum colleague. "That seems to be the idea, Commander, that everyone in the fleet seems to think. You said priority was food."

"_Pegasus_ has advanced optical and X-Ray telescopes and astrometric facilities. Admiral Cain's battlestar also has dozens of Raptors which could greatly increase our search radius," the Commander said.

Porter swaggered as she digested the Commander's statements.

"I know when a politician or a military command is using 'plausible deniability', Commander. You're a good Commander… you saved us on New Caprica and my constituents are eternally grateful, and your leadership in this crisis… but don't patronize us," Porter warned. She could be just as stern, cool, and composed as the Commander standing opposite her.

As if on cue the sound powered to the conference room rang. A Marine answered and informed the Commander he was needed in CIC.

"Miss Porter, I took this meeting as a courtesy to the President. If you'll excuse me…" he trailed off as he turned.

"Commander Adama," the middle-aged Quorum delegate shouted after him. Her voice was strong and loud. "Commander Adama," she hurried to his side, "former President Baltar and that Six were responsible for the bloody occupation. There are people in the fleet who won't take well to knowing that Baltar and the Cylon are involved in some secret military project."

He didn't respond and turned away again but stopped when he felt the tight grip of the fiery woman on his forearm.

Adama looked down at the hand and back at her. As if his silent look told her everything she slowly removed her hand and the Commander left.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_ (+991 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"God damnit, I just need to use the bathroom," Baltar protested as a big, two plus meter tall Marine clad in intimidating black armor and a rifle across his chest stood in front of him. "Now, I am sure a Marine such as yourself, prideful and professional, would not want to explain to your friends why there is piss on your boot-"

"Is there a problem here, sergeant?" Athena asked as she brushed her oily hands off on a grease cloth. She walked up to the Marine and turned so she could face him and Baltar.

The bio-Cylon was a head shorter and about a hundred pounds light than the armored Marine, but she held herself tall and was firm in her stance.

"No, sir," the Marine replied. "He went to the bathroom an hour ago and needs to go again. I think he's _doing something_ in there," the Marine said as he added in a glare at the skittish scientist. "Sir, there's only myself and the corporal. We're to have two Marines here at all times…"

His implication of perversion was met by a return glare colder than the void outside _Galactica_.

"No, it was three hours ago," Baltar pointed out. "Maybe basic time keeping isn't an integral part of your 'point-and-shoot' or 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' training but-"

Athena put her backhand on the scientist's chest. "I'll take him," Athena offered as a means to shut the scientist up.

The food shortage had stranded a significant number of Marines in their beds, too tired to work. Exhausted. What others there were were stretched to the limit guarding secure areas of the ship and aiding the distribution of the dwindling supply of dry rations.

Her offer also allowed the Marine to treat the doctor like crap and not lose any credibility or standing with his friends. The Marines were professional, but the hatred for the former President was so obvious and powerful that Colonel Tigh had had to hand-pick Marines who had not been stranded on New Caprica during the Cylon occupation.

"Yes, sir," the Marine dutifully responded and stepped aside. He let his rifle slide back down to a carry position. He'd been prepared to use it to push into Baltar's chest and shove him backwards into the Raptor.

Athena quickly motioned for Baltar to move it and made her impatience clear with a stuttering hand gesture towards the hanger deck heads.

Baltar, of course, had to get in a victorious sneer at the young Marine and add in an insult about the man's intelligence under his breath.

He kept looking back as he and Athena made their way across the landing bay.

"Thank you," the Doctor said.

Athena thought for a moment that he sounded almost gracious.

"You're welcome… and that guy has been pissing me off recently," she whispered. The scientist grunted his complete agreement. "But I did consider how it would have looked if you did take a piss on the flight deck. The Chief probably would have killed you and I bet I couldn't have stopped him if he tried." She chuckled. "You need to lighten up a little bit, Doctor."

The Doctor looked at her with narrowed eyes and straight-lipped mouth. "You're not the object of murderous stares and people spitting at you for something you had no control over."

He locked eyes with a group of deck hands and slowed his paced until Athena pulled him back with a tug on his arm. He winced, and the deck hands laughed. It felt like the bio-Cylon had almost pulled his shoulder out of its socket. He twisted it and rubbed it with his opposite hand just to be sure.

Athena opened the hatch towards the central storage areas, where the closest heads were. "You think I don't get stared at?" She asked as she ushered him through and closed and locked the hatch behind her. "There are kids in the _Galactica_ day care whose parents won't let their kid play with mine and we're part of the same crew. You think I don't get stared at… or Hera doesn't get stared at? The only half-human and half-Cylon child in existence?" She pushed him forward. "You don't know."

Baltar stumbled and straightened his sweat marked and oil stained shirt.

"Yes, I _do_ know, Mrs. Agathon," he corrected. He began looking for the heads with her behind him. "I do very much know," he repeated to the empty corridor in front of him. "I surrender to the Cylons and am made into a puppet and I get One Eye Tigh and his merry band of suicide bombers trying to fraking kill me at every turn and every fraking day!" He spun around.

Athena could see the sweat dripping from his brow and the central vein running between his eyes and up his forehead pulsing. He was shaking.

"The head is over here," she pointed lazily.

The left side of Doctor Baltar's lip flickered briefly, either in contempt or in acknowledgment it was unfair for him to have lost his temper. He knew that Sharon, Mrs. Agathon, had been subject to some brutal conditions and had nearly been raped by Lieutenant Thorne and his own merry band of rapists.

"I apologize," the Doctor said in a dignified tone, raising himself to his full height and pushing back his shoulders. He wasn't a tall man, but he was lean and could be a presence when he wanted to be.

"Just… go to the bathroom…" she stepped over the ankle knockers as she followed Baltar and closed the hatch. She watched Baltar go into a stall and close the gray slit door. She turned the water to the faucet on so she wouldn't hear him pissing.

"I have to thank you," he said from behind the stall door, "for trusting me and Caprica."

Athena shivered. She hated it when people talked and went to the bathroom. It was creepy.

"Don't mention it." She hesitantly said.

She turned around towards the sink and grabbed the edges. Her neck came down and her shoulders came up and she stared at the brown eyes and light brown face looking back at her. She was a Cylon helping humans with a hybrid daughter escorting the former president of the Colonies to the head.

Athena reached down and splashed some water on her face as the hatch opened.

"How ya doin'?" She heard someone ask. It was friendly voice; strong, kind, casual.

With water dripping down her face and in her eyes she brought a clean part of her green military blouse up to wipe off her eyes.

She heard something extend, like metal brushing on metal. As she turned she felt something smash into the back of her head, throwing her forward into the mirror. A strike to the back brought her down, her chin smashing into the side of the sink. Athena fell, her eyes wet and blurry, and she watched a pair of black boots stomp in front of her. The door to the stall opened and Baltar was pulled out by the scruff of his shirt, his pants around his ankles, by two men who threw him to the ground and began kicking and beating him.

* * *

Caprica watched the exchange between the Marine and Baltar with a strange, almost predator-like interest. Her head tilted slowly back and forth, her blonde hair following, as she studied Gaius's interaction with the Marine.

The Marine stood his ground, Baltar stood his ground. A small amalgam of orange jump suits, green fatigues, and pilots and civilians had assembled on the far end of the maintenance deck, more than likely hoping for the doctor to be rifle whipped by the Marine.

He wasn't afraid and he wasn't backing down. She smiled to herself and looked back down as Athena approached. She'd handle it and help Baltar. The Six was proud of her Cylon sister and had envied her for her honor and convictions.

The platinum blonde synthetic woman had worked tirelessly for the last few days, twenty hours a day, to finish the device and upgrades to the Raptor. She wasn't sure why she was doing this.

There was a civil war with her people, with Twos, Sixes, and Eights pitted against the other models. She wanted to help her Cylon brother and sisters, but hadn't demanded to be released yet. She was being held back by the man she was watching confront the Marine and leave the hanger deck.

"When do you estimate you will be finished?" Caprica Six heard. She looked up to see Soto staring back at her, half turned, from the pilot's seat.

"Done already?" She decided to use a question to answer the machine's question. She leaned forward from the ECO chair to get a better view. Sure enough Soto had finished adding the displays and controls to the pilot's central control console. "It's a bit unorthodox… the layout of the control panel," she motioned with her chin.

She reached down into her tool kit and pulled out a micro soldering tool and connected some wires to the motherboard she had been upgrading. A petite cough escaped her lungs when the thin serpentine puff of smoke slivered into her lungs.

"The controls are optimized for my use. Ergonomics are not as efficient as machine-operated systems," Soto explained. "I do not suffer from cramping." The female machine stood up and looked out the bay door of the Raptor. "Few Skynet or new Tech Com aircraft even have cockpits as you would recognize them," she casually stated.

"Much like our Raiders," Caprica said.

"Very much like your Raiders." She agreed.

The Marines were patrolling the perimeter, the black crates holding the external equipment they would need to still attach were locked and secured, and the novelty of a machine, two bio-Cylons, and the disgraced former President of the Colonies modifying a Raptor had worn off about mid-way through the second day.

"The stares here aren't as bad as New Caprica," the Six randomly began, "because I think they know they can still beat us. No matter what we did they fought back. Surely they knew if they did enough damage we would leave and nuke them from orbit?"

Caprica heard a fast and deep, almost synthetic and machine-like chuckle from the Terminator. She looked up at her and the machine was still staring out into the hanger deck. Her right hand was poised up at the top of the bay door and she was leaning slightly forward.

It was so human to Caprica, to see the machine leaning forward like that, like a young woman confident in herself and her abilities.

"Humans have an amazing inability to grasp the consequences of their actions." Jo pushed off and leaned on the cabin plating opposite the ECO console on the port side. "I said the same thing. To be honest, Caprica, when I was on the planet if I saw the Cylons evacuating I was going to _run_. Run as fast as I could and as far away as I could to a place I found which had a high probability to survival."

"Oh?" Caprica was interested. She put the motherboard down on a piece of plastic and turned to listen.

"It was seven point two kilometers from the city, southeast, over-"

"The hills… I remember there was a canyon."

"Yes. I assumed you would use nothing larger than a one hundred to one hundred and fifty kiloton nuclear device."

"One eighty five, actually…" She shrugged. The Terminator began laughing while Caprica stared on at the strange sense of humor. "That's funny?"

Soto stopped, her face moving from a creased, contorting picture of laughter to an even and blank canvas. "No, it's not funny."

Caprica went to reach for the electronics she was working on and stopped mid-grab. She brought her hands back to her lap and her arms back to her side. Her gray sweats were a bit more comfortable than her tight black pants, high heels, and skimpy jacket, but this still felt wrong. It wasn't the Colonial workout clothes which were doubling as a jail uniform, it was just being _here_.

"Why am I doing this?" She asked the empty air, or Soto, she didn't know. Caprica just kept staring ahead at the mesh on the wall behind the co-pilot station. "Why am I helping? I'm going to be executed- civil war or not."

"You don't know that," the Terminator replied evenly. "But it is probable."

"Thank you for that," the Six sardonically replied.

"You can be lied to or be told the truth. It's up to you, Caprica," Soto said. "It is probably you and Baltar may be executed. However, by helping the fleet here you also gain sympathy." She looked back into the landing bay. "The people here are not ruthless."

"If that will be my fate, I can accept it… but Baltar. I don't even know how to deal with what happened to him," she lamented. "I don't even know how that's possible. It shouldn't be possible, Soto… it's, it's not designed like that," she insisted.

"Now that we know we can observe," Soto advised.

"I don't know what would happen if we approached him." The Six said as she began to grow quiet and reserved. Her hands moved lazily over the equipment in her lap.

"Maybe you need a purpose?" Jo asked. "It's not like one of… uh… us, has never done something for a human out of love before."

"I guess not," the dejected Cylon prisoner replied as her head fell into her chest. "What I was responsible for cannot be forgiven, even in the eyes of God. Even repentant-"

"Stop." Soto held up her hand. "One thing I despise is when people feel sorry for themselves. Whatever you did, whatever it was, Caprica," Jo leaned in, "I don't want to know. Because right now you and Baltar are the only two who can help me find John and Carter and _Pegasus_. They're all that matter to me."

"You don't care about the part I played in the holocaust?"

"No, I do care."

Caprica frowned at the contradiction and assume the machine had been or was lying.

She glanced over to the machine who had locked her gaze on her.

"I don't care _right now_. Whatever the Colonials decide to do with you and Baltar is not something I can affect. There was a saying there is no fate but what we make, Caprica. Make yours."

* * *

Athena felt the air knocked out of her after a second kick. Her ribs were bruising and close to cracking. She'd bitten a nasty chunk of flesh from the inside of her cheek when she had fallen. Almost choking on the flesh, she coughed it up and spit blood onto her attacker's boots.

She put her hands under her and tried to get up on all fours but was pushed back down, her face slammed into the deck, by a boot to the mid-back.

"Hold him down. We'll take care of the Cylon bitch," the man with the metal billy club snarled, "and then gut the _President_." He reached down and yanked Athena's long black hair and pulled her left and right and towards him.

She almost fell when her knees buckled, but one of the other two men who had been beating Baltar had wrapped his arms around her and was holding her up for another punch.

Her augmented bio-Cylon physiology didn't matter if she was taken by surprise and struck on the back on the head.

If she had seen the billy club, if the man had at least been somewhat honorable and attacked from the front, he'd be laying with a broken arm, an open and compound fracture, sprawled on the ground. And probably a broken knee.

His two buddies would have been lying on the floor as well. She could have finished this in seconds if she hadn't been surprised. And now all that was racing through Sharon's mind was a way to get out of this. She needed an opening and her eyes and mind desparately searched for one.

The bio-Cylon needed time to recover. Only seconds, but if the man kept up his attack she'd be unconscious. She had to distract him.

"Coward!" She spat. Blood oozed out of her mouth and she somehow managed to get some on the man's vest. She couldn't see him and he was still blurry.

The man cocked back his hand and tensed and back hand slapped her. A ring he was wearing tore into her cheek and splashed blood onto the head mirror.

"Fraking shit, cut my knuckles," he cursed, shaking his hand out. He leaned in and grabbed her by the throat. "I heard what the _Pegasus_ crew was going to do to you… I like that idea…" he grinned.

He moaned in a disgusting, mocking expectance and his hands came down and his fingers felt her breasts and dragged down her stomach to her belt.

"You're a fraking coward!" She shouted. He backhanded her.

Her vision was clearing and her knees weren't as wobbly. Her synthetic glands were shooting out copious amounts of adrenaline and other chemicals designed to boost reflexes, focus the bio-Cylon, and give them an edge in battle.

"Just kill her! Kill the Cylon bitch!" the man standing over a bloodied and half-conscious Baltar hissed. "Hurry up and kill her!"

The other man was holding her, his arms wrapped into the pits of her elbows, and pinning her against his chest.

The man who threatened to rape her grabbed her by the throat and leaned in.

"You think what you did on New Caprica won us over? You're a Cylon bitch and a Cylon whore and you'll always be one. Once we're done here we'll gut your Cylon fraking husband and-"

He had no time to finish his sentence, his threat; Athena knew how it would end. Her eyes darkened and widened and her head was clear. She felt everything slow as she studied the man in front of her; tall, dirty hair, green eyes, square jaw… and evil, devil's grin and a dark shine in his eyes- manifestations of an evil soul.

She didn't see a man. She saw evil. There was a terribly malicious smile creasing his lips. She would not hold back.

She released every drug her synthetic glands and augmented body could make to increase her strength. She would not hold back.

The man with the billy club raised it at an angle to bring it down to crack her temple. She raised her leg and stomped down hard on the man's foot that was holding her. His grip slackened as her heel was driven into his foot, shattering bones. Her left hand formed a fist and with a mean hook contacted the green eyed man in the right cheek.

Both men screamed and the third over Baltar stood in shook as the bio-Cylon fought back.

In slow motion she watched as the wave rippled the skin across his cheek. She heard bones cracking in his jaw.

Athena leapt and double kicked him and pushed back, throwing the man holding her into a stall door. He came crashing down onto a toilet and screaming and the metal bowl was rammed into his back.

The man over Baltar, a short man, a balding man, a scared man, ran over and had a knife ready but hesitated.

On top of the man prostrated across the toilet she pushed down and shot herself off at a angle. She kicked the man in the ankles and swept him off his feet. He landed on the ground and dropped the knife. The mother and wife stood and faced the man with the billy club, who had recovered.

He swung at her at a downward angle from his right. She easily blocked it with a swipe of her forearm. An open palm strike to his sternum crack the bone and he staggered back, dropping the billy club. His hands frantically reached out for the sink to keep himself upright. The left hand was on his chest, claw-like and he was wheezing and struggling to breathe.

"N-n-no… pl-please!" He begged, falling to his knees, no longer able to support himself.

She saw his eyes dart right. Athena dodged as the man from the stall tried to lunge at her and fail. She back stepped and as he fell she brought an elbow down on the back of his neck. He stopped in mid air from the counter momentum and fell. His cervical vertebrae were smashed, his brainstem crushed and obliterated. The man from the stall, the man holding her, laid face down on the deck dead.

Sharon was breathing heavily. She looked over and saw Baltar struggling to regain consciousness. The man on his knees in front of her was still begging.

Her shoulders were heaving up and down and her heart was pounding. She could hear the beating of feet out in the corridor, running towards the bathroom. The sound of the fight had attracted attention.

Her hands raced for his throat and she squeezed as hard as she could. She heard a crack as her vision narrowed to a pin point and she passed out.

* * *

"Sharon!" Helo yelled. He sped around the corner, almost colliding with a nurse, and yelled again on seeing his wife bandaged and bruised and lying on a gurney in medical. He ran forward and Doctor Cottle stepped in front of him and slowed him down.

"Easy, son. Calm down." Helo brushed passed him and grabbed his wife's hands and gently hugged her. "She passed out; she has a hard knock on the head, so take it easy!" He shouted after the worried and frightened husband.

Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh, and half a dozen Marines flowed in and were standing in the waiting area of medical. Doctor Cottle was already explaining the situation to them.

Doctor Cottle nodded and came back to the opposite side Helo was on.

"Where's Hera, where is she?" Sharon demanded, trying to push herself up. Her Cylon strength was too much for Helo alone and Doctor Cottle had to help keep her calm.

"Sharon! Sharon! She's safe! She is safe!" He yelled to her, grabbing her and letting her burry her head in her chest. "She'll be down soon, don't worry, she's safe."

She tried to push up, but Helo kept her calm and lying in the bed wrapped in his arms. She had pads on the side of her head monitoring her brain. She'd suffered a concussion.

Commander Adama walked up slowly to Sharon and grabbed her hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Commander!" Colonel Tigh called.

Commander Adama looked once more at Sharon and squeezed her hand. He looked over his shoulder and the face of an old, kind, caring man was replaced with a face of hardened stone and complete anger.

He stormed over to a man in too-tight handcuffs and strapped down to a gurney.

"This is him?" Adama snarled.

"Yes sir," Tigh responded. "Crewman Frederick Crush from _Cloud 9_, here to pick up food supplies," Tigh read. "The other two were DOA, sir," Tigh snickered.

Colonel Tigh, standing opposite the Commander, brought the clipboard behind his back and waited for orders on what to do with the prisoner.

"Colonel Tigh, I want-" Adama began as he heard stomping.

Adama spun in time as Helo saw the man was inches away from killing him himself. "Easy, son," Adama stepped between the officer and the attacker. "He'll get his dues," he whispered, "you can be sure of that." Helo pressed forward. "Be with your wife, Helo," Adama told him.

He stared at Helo's chest and then looked him in the eye. He held Helo there until the angered husband looked down and locked eyes with the Commander in silent understanding. The man could beat this coward into a bloody pulp. The Commander had more than half a mind to let him do it, too.

Commander Adama turned back to the Marines standing over the shackled prisoner and Doctor Cottle.

"I want this thing out of here as soon as possible," the Commander ordered. "Bandage him up and get him ready to transfer to the brig."

Cottle, standing over the patient's head lit a cigarette. "As fast as possible." He blew down into the man's face and ignored the coughing.

The battlestar commander turned again to Helo who had calmed down and was walking back to his wife, looking over his shoulder and watching the shackled attack like a hawk.

"Commander," Doc Cottle said again to get the Old Man's attention. Adama walked over and was now over Baltar. "Doctor Baltar here suffered more extensive injuries. He has a concussion, a perforated ear drum, a broken nose, and substantial bruising to his face and ribs…" Cottle traild off as he held his stethoscope over the man's lung fields, "and most likely a simple pneumothorax by the sound of it."

The Doctor, who had been facing Cottle with his eyes closed looked over at the Commander.

"I think beating me was the dream of the entire fleet," Baltar coughed.

"Don't be a wise ass," Cottle advised in a gruff and unsympathetic tone. "You should be lucky you didn't suffer anything worse with that bruising."

"How long will his recovery time be?" Adama asked.

He reached out and grabbed the plastic guard rails and leaned in to inspect the poor scientist doctor. He did feel sorry for him, after a fashion.

True, he'd have put a bullet to the man's head if he'd had the opportunity… but he was trying to help the ship, even if it might have been to save his own ass, but help was help and _Galactica _needed all the help she could get at the moment.

"I want to keep him for observation and an X ray… a simple pneumo is fairly easy to fix. A couple days maybe. After that I can discharge him. I can bandage up his ribs; give him some injections to speed up the healing, and some drugs for the pain… that's about it." The Doctor took another puff of his cigarette as the Commander stared down at the now dreary ex-President. "No one deserves this," the Doctor opined.

Commander Adama looked up weary and tired.

Maybe, he thought, he should have addressed the crew immediately and told them that Baltar and Six were helping them build something to possibly find _Pegasus_? Maybe that would have prevented this… but no, he concluded. People who hate will hate no matter what. Hate was irrational. It was based on fear. And when people were afraid they would do anything and do it for temporary gain even if it hurt them a hundred times more in the end.

'Sometimes we have to ask ourselves if we're worthy,' he uttered so quietly that the Doctor a mere meter away couldn't heard him.

* * *

"_Well, Gaius, I don't know if what happened to you was because you defied God's plan or whether or not He is testing you,"_ the Six said in a melancholy tone. She looked down longingly at her corporeal love and ran her finger down from his chin to his chest, down his neck. He was asleep. He was so peaceful; she could watch him sleep forever. But, the Six knew, he had work to do. "_Wake up, Gaius,"_ she commanded.

The beaten and bruised scientist shot up in bed, gasping. His eyes were wide and his heart rate monitor began beeping frantically.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," he shouted to the nurses, waving them off.

Still, they came to check him. One of the physician assistants, Warrant Office Second Class Ishay pushed him back down, telling him to lie back, and she checked his heart and lungs with her stethoscope and made sure the blood pressure sensors and other monitoring devices were working properly.

"You're alright now, but when these medications wear off, you'll be hurting, Doctor. You suffered serious bruising and a conscious," the physician's assistant informed her. "And you need to stay calm or the foam will rip apart and your pneumothorax could worsen."

"_They were cruel to you, Gaius,"_ the Six spoke softly. The platinum blonde haired woman in a white dress walked up behind the medic and peered over her shoulder at the chart. "_You'll be fine, Gaius. There are many trials God sets upon those He's chosen… you should feel honored… after a fashion."_

"I know," he responded.

Ishay looked down and put his chart back at the foot of his bed.

"Just get some rest and sleep." Ishay said.

"_I wonder how the Cylon is doing…" Six imagined._

"How is Shar-… Lieutenant Agathon?" he asked, leaning up. He looked left and right but saw he was in an alcove and couldn't see anything except a small TV on the wall and the bulkheads. "She saved my life," he said quietly.

The woman smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, she did. She's fine. We released her. You've been out for a while… sleeping." She tapped the metal rail at the end of the bed, nodded in conclusion and walked off to check on other patients when Baltar didn't need her.

"So this is a test?" he asked, laying back and burying his head into his pillow. He stared absently into the boring gray ceiling. "A test from your God?"

"_He's your God, too, Gaius, whether you want to accept him or not. I don't know if it was a test,"_ she admitted. "_What do you think?"_

"If it's a test?" He asked her rhetorically.

He cupped his hands and buried his face in them. He could feel the moisture condence from his warm breath into the small container he'd created between his mouth and hands.

"_You've been strong, Gaius. People are falling over from hunger, too sick to work, and you work tirelessly…"_

"Well, I do have company," he said.

He wasn't referring to her.

A silent minute, punctuated only by beeps and groans of medical equipment, filled Baltar's mind.

"I try and help and I'm beaten and Lt. Agathon is beaten… why should I even help?" He questioned.

"_I think you know the answer to that, Gaius,"_ the Six responded. She sat on his bed and leaned down. Slowly she put her arm under his pillow and draped it onto his chest and ran her finger up and down his shoulder. "_Good men are often put through trials_."

"Good men are put through trials… you mean, like building that thing to attract the Cylons on New Caprica?" He looked at her wide-eyed and demanded to know what she meant. "Like that?" he snarled at the Six.

She looked hurt and closed her eyes.

The bedridden scientist felt worse than he perceived she felt, if she could feel… he wasn't sure. Once more his mind raced and fought with itself over whether the Six standing here was real or fake. She _felt_ so real, but as a scientist, the Doctor knew that neural stimulation could induce some… strange sensations and realities- the entire basis of the old holoband technology had been based on light inducing electrical signals in the brain.

"_New Caprica wasn't the right place. _You_ knew that, Gaius. _You_ knew that… you knew your place wasn't on the planet… what did you think you were building? Honestly, Gaius? How long before the Cylons would have found you?"_ The Six asked. She was beside him and caressing his cheek lovingly.

"And you knew they wouldn't just nuke us?"

The Six looked him in the eye and for a second Baltar could see fear. He saw what true fear, something he had never seen in her before. The man watched as she stood and looked away.

"_It was a risk, Gaius. You knew that risk had to be taken._"

"You put me… all of us in danger."

Baltar watched as she ran her hands up and down her bare arms. Was she cold, he wondered? Or nervous? He silently demanded to know how she could even be nervous, how a supposed figment of his imagination could be nervous and cold?

He shook with frustration and pumped his hands into hardened fists and yelled.

"Damnit, just tell me!"

He was staring right at her, tears on the cusp of falling from his eyes.

"Hey!" Baltar heard. "What's wrong now?" Ishay demanded and she stalked over. She was at the foot of his bed and her head swiveled to the now empty corner of the medical bay where Baltar was staring. The woman looked at the injured scientist and then back to where he was staring and back again. "What are you looking at?"

"_Nothing, Gaius," _he heard her say. He couldn't see her.

"I was… um… I was dreaming… sorry," he sheepishly smiled and looked down and darted his eyes left and right.

The PA rolled her eyes and sighed and stalked off for a second time.

"Dreaming…" Baltar repeated.

* * *

||||||||||==_Colonial One_==||||||||||

President Roslin sat quietly behind the desk of the President of the Colonies and quietly watched Commander Adama sitting in the plush leather seats opposite her. There were forty-seven thousand out of seventy-thousand Colonial citizens who wanted justice and many of them were willing to do whatever it took to ensure justice, in some manner, was carried out.

A people on the run now, nearly one thousand days since the Colonies had been destroyed, and starving and tired, had rallied into opposing camps. The attack on Baltar and Athena had gotten the fleet talking, distracted them.

It was something Roslin did not want.

The cold, harsh world had begun to reform when the Cylons appeared. What was it, Roslin thought back, that Baltar had said… 'The city was going to be built on the dreams and hopes of the surviving population for a better tomorrow'? Roslin knew at the time, and even now, that line was incredibly corny, lame perhaps. The city on New Caprica had started with so much of that hope, stalled, and then was finally looking like a _city_ until they came.

It was a memory, but one which would forever be ingrained in the psyche of each Colonial citizen. The Fall, the Holocaust was something few people saw and very few actually experience; only a handful had been close enough to the twelve worlds to witness the bombardment and even fewer had been rescued from the planets.

The occupation had been something different. It had been deeply personal, a final insult to an already broken people.

"Madam President?" She heard. A gruff, husky voice resonated in her ears. "Madam President… _Laura,"_ she heard. Her head snapped back front and her eyes focused.

Roslin thought back to the Circle, to the secret 'jury' cabal the short-termed President Zarek had formed. They'd killed fifteen people… the 'worse of the worse.' That was their claim. Only the most liberal application of the word 'lawful' could have describe the kangaroo court Zarek had assembled. But, Roslin considered, if the court had followed through… was there anyone else who might be targeted? Might it have been better to just finish it then and there? Quick and… dirty.

For months now, Roslin contemplated, she had promised Baltar would receive a trial.

'_When_?' the press would ask.

'_Soon_,' she would respond.

Always '_soon_.'

'_At least he has a lawyer_,' she would quip.

The press would laugh and then maybe make a joke or two then move onto something else.

She didn't understand it, but she felt… disgusted by the attack. When she heard the report she hadn't felt anything, nothing in her gut. Her mind was telling her that Baltar had it coming, or at least, she'd _expected_ her mind to tell her that. But there had been nothing until now.

Even as he calmly sat there, the President could see the Commander was unnerved by this attack.

She slowly took off her glasses, laid them at the corner of her desk, and gently smiled away the thoughts haunting her mind.

"Do you remember what you said, Bill, during _Galactica_'s museum ceremony?" Roslin asked with a hint of reservation as quiet, concerned eyes looked back at the resolute Commander.

The Old Man's lip curved upward into a remembering grin and he huffed at the memory and the sentiments the president was trying to dig up. He didn't have to be reminded of what he'd said. That day was etched into his mind and played in his dreams and nightmares both.

"I remember it every day," he responded in his gruff voice, looking her in the eye. He felt himself growing distant. "When something like this happens I have to remind myself there are people… men, women, and children in this fleet who deserve protection."

And he'd been so lucky to have his son survive the attack. So few families had survived.

She nodded in gentle understanding of the burden on the man's shoulders. "This is when the worst of us comes out, when our backs are to the wall," she said. On her desk she pushed aside a pen and leaned down and forward on her elbows. "Maybe-"

"I accept responsibility for this," the Commander said. He uncrossed his legs and scooted forward, his uniform scrapping on the leather seats. "I kept my people in the dark. I was operating under a system which is old, antiquated. We've seen where keeping military secrets have gotten us before. Misunderstandings… miscommunications…" he trailed off as he looked out of the view ports to the behemoth gray and black _Galactica_ floating alongside _Colonial One_. "The Fall changed our society and New Caprica broke it. With the Guardians and a quest for Earth we were hanging on by a thread, distracted- we've been lucky. This is the first crisis we've had since the planet. I said to someone before I don't do regrets, but I will accept the responsibility."

"No. Everyone is on edge from the food and the loss of _Peg…"_ she stopped mid-sentence in realization of her error. "I didn't… mean to imply the ship is gone, Bill," she corrected. Her voice was soft and sympathetic, but the Commander, sitting only two meters away, was cold and distant. For Roslin the distance could be like he was light years away.

She mentally lashed herself for even inadvertently suggesting the battlestar with his son and daughter-in-law was lost, destroyed.

Commander Adama let out a breath, and the tired and worried expression which had become common on his face the last few weeks appeared in force. "The Raptor project was to bring some hope to the people when we need it."

"You did it before with the Blackbird," Roslin observed. She stood up and walked over and slowly, with a gentle grace, lowered herself onto the adjacent seat. "It's who you're using. On _Galactica_ you're isolated…" Adama looked up in disagreement and Roslin put up a hand to stop him from countering her. "It's true, Bill, you are. The meeting you had with the Quorum delegates is the first in months and you don't make it to many of the other ships in the fleet… what was the last ship other than _Galactica, Pegasus_, or _Helios_ you were on? Or _Colonial One?_"

"_Cloud 9_," he said. "Three months ago," he reluctantly admitted. He felt his shoulders drop down in defeat to the President's point.

A feeling he was still unfamiliar with, a heavy coldness fell in his gut. He'd made a mistake.

"Exactly, Bill. You have the former president everyone hates and sees as a Cylon collaborator taking lead on the project and accompanied by Caprica Six… and," she snorted and then laughed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't" she waved, "but the rumors are…"

"I'm aware of the rumors concerning their relationship on New Caprica," he filled in for the President.

He didn't mention the recording of Baltar's ramblings. Commander Adama had indeed witnessed the former president profess a love for the biological-robot hybrid in Sharon's old cell after fierce sessions of argument with the 'empty' air and walls.

Colonel Tigh had called it the 'most fraked up thing since human-Centurion porn' he'd seen after the first war.

"And even with everything Lieutenant Agathon has done for the fleet she's still a Cylon and former Lieutenant Soto is a machine… so do you see where I'm going with this, Bill?" She asked delicately.

There was a tense moment where the President felt she hadn't just stepped on the Commander's toes, but had stomped on them and then dug and twisted her heel into the mangled bone and flesh.

Adama felt the President's hand on his shoulder, and she gave it a powerful squeeze in friendship and understanding.

The brooding Commander looked over to the president with perpetually tired, but authoritative eyes. He could see the cheek bones in her face and she looked pale. He knew she would be refusing to eat if it meant someone else wouldn't go as hungry.

"Have you been eating, Madam President?" He asked.

At the mention of food he felt the pang of hunger.

"Have you, Bill?" She countered. "And don't distract me from your answer. I might be hungry like everyone else, but I'm not distracted so easily," she quipped and tapped her temple.

He scooted over in his seat and leaned to face her.

"I've got a little extra," he patted his stomach. "I'll manage." He looked back over her shoulder at the Vipers flying CAP around the President's transport. "And yes, I heard you. They're the only ones qualified… Baltar is, unfortunately a genius." He looked back at her. "We've made more-"

She gave him an annoyed look. "Worse alliances," she finished.

He winced in such a subtle manner Roslin almost missed it.

"I was going to say… 'desperate,' Madam President," he said with a tilt of the head.

She pressed her hands together and brought them up to her face, covering her nose and mouth. "We're so desperate we need to use an overseer and a disgraced collaborator?"

"When we stopped being a civilization, when the Cylons nuked our Colonies, yes, we're desperate and we need to use every resource available. If it's any comfort, if the Six or Baltar are deceiving us, Soto swore she would terminate them." The President chuckled awkwardly. He stood up and pulled down his tunic. "Madam President," he looked at his watch, "I have some more meetings and business to attend to on _Galactica_, and I'm meeting with the Guardians and Captain Vansen on the baseship."

The President stood up and moved back to her large leather chair and slid into it. "How is the _Helios_ XO doing?"

"She's doing well." he thought of that briefly. "She hasn't had much experience, but she's handling command well."

"You know my concerns about _Helios_ and the ships?" She asked.

"She's a good ship, and Vansen is a capable executive officer," he responded. "I know Evzan Mikos wasn't your first choice for the new Caprican delegate-"

"But politics and voters," she cut him off. "The will of the people, it's so frustrating," she told him tongue-in-cheek.

"We tried dictatorship before," he commented. "At least Caprica now has the largest proportion of refugees," he added with a small smile. "We should be glad of that… thank you Madam President, but I have to go," he ended.

The president felt herself struggling to say something, to keep the conversation going with William Adama, but he said he needed to leave twice now. She didn't want to bother him. So she acknowledge his request and bid him a quiet goodbye.

After he had left she began rifling through stacks of papers on her desk, wondering where Billy and Tory were. One thing which clung to the back of her mind was how honest and blunt the Commander could be without being confrontational. HE was right, she knew. They were in no position to refuse help when offered. They were _refugees_.

Each time she forget the Commander always showed up when the time was right to remind her. They were seventy thousand people fleeing across the galaxy, thousands of light years from their homes, and thousands of light years from safety.

She took off her glasses and could feel coldness in her chest well up. It was tight and her hand slowly massaged her sternum. They fled one danger only towards another out of desperation, fear, and… nothing. They had nothing.

* * *

||||||||||==Guardian Baseship==||||||||||

Commander Adama's Raptor glided slowly into the landing bay of the Guardian baseship as a pair of Raiders on sentinel picket duty swung in and then out as the squat, brown transport craft entered the landing bays.

The young captain and Executive Officer of the cruiser _Helios_ sat quietly across from the Commander, one hand on a hand hold and the other gripped to the seat.

She looked up and over and could see the Commander, sitting serene and calm, but with a little smile on his face at the captain's self-admitted nervousness.

"I always get a little jump on flights, sir. I wasn't a pilot," she sheepishly explain.

"That's al-" Adama's hand shot out when the Raptor lurched. He heard Racetrack yell back about that being her fault. "That's alright…" he finished, this time with a lighthearted jovialness to his voice.

Until the Raptor came to a complete stop and the hatch began cycling open, the captain maintained her near death grip on the seat. She'd been on probably a hundred separate Raptor flights but the captain felt she would probably never get used to sitting in the overly sensitive, stubby, little work mule of the fleet.

"Any tips on dealing with them?" He asked. She looked at him curiously. "You all lived with them a lot longer then we did," he pointed out.

"Oh, yes, sir. Administrator Iblis is a tight ass, sir, and pretends to be easily offended. Don't worry about it," she shook her hand for the Commander to not concern himself with Iblis, "and Thais… I don't know Thais well enough, sir… but, sir…"

"Yes?"

"Don't underestimate them," she respectfully warned. "Don't treat them like _things_ and everything will be fine." She smiled. "And sir, they can be somewhat literal."

The hatch equalized pressure with the Guardian hanger bay, and a soft and quick hiss with an overhead light turning green signaled for the pilots to open the hatch. A trio of Marines were first out, inspecting the bay and the Guardians that had assembled. One maintained his position on the right side of the hatch while the two others bounced down off the wing onto the deck and assumed sentinel positions.

"Commander Adama," a machine in an IL-S body said.

It was wearing the impeccable and sharp uniform of the Guardians. Similar to the Colonial uniform, with the same, though tighter collar, but all black, with a thin red stripe in the center of two parallel gold stripes running down the crease of the pants, and the same from the shoulders to the cuffs.

The Commander looked up to see a somewhat familiar face, Commander Thais, saluting. Administrator Iblis stood behind and to the robot's right, in their analogue of civilian clothes- just a plain black suit with an unbuttoned and white collared shirt. A gold armored Model 005 and the unknown model of black Centurions Daniel had constructed stood behind and to the side of the two IL-S robots.

"Commander Thais," he returned the salute. "Permission to come aboard?" he asked. He felt being semi-formal to set the right tone.

The machine tilted his head in an angled nod and granted his permission.

The Commander and captain bounced off the wing with a light step and centered on the four Guardians. From the corner of his eye he saw his three Marine escorts fold in behind him in a rough escorting semi-circle, clearly nervous about being on a Guardian warship.

He looked around and could see the empty alcoves for dozens of gunships. The hanger deck was pristine. It was also quiet. Except for a few Centurions at the far end of the bay, few of the mechanical soldiers were present.

Adama could hear the muffled noise of machinery and equipment from the adjacent landing bay, most likely the Raider bay.

"If you accompany me to the command deck," Thais suggested, stepping back and then stepping abreast of the Commander as they followed the gold armored command centurion. "Captain Vansen, it is a pleasure to see you again."

"Thank you, Commander. It's been very busy on _Helios_," she said.

Thais nodded.

The walk for them was brisk, quick really, and quiet. Thais and Iblis made no small talk, no chit chat. The silence was comforting and troubling to the Commander. The machines were cool and focused, but distant and foreign. Adama felt there was nothing tangible holding the Guardians to humanity, the Colonies, other than what he considered a misplaced racial guilt over the genocide of the Twelve Worlds.

"I'm surprised you keep it warm in your baseship," Adama said, deciding to make conversation as they stepped off a tram a few frames back from command. "My pilots told me some of the other ships were much cooler." He felt the dry heat on his neck and face.

The corridors around him were for the most part empty. They were the same dimensions as the Guardian baseship that houses the first hybrid, but with clear white lights and vents instead of fans. There were recessed cameras and what appeared to be small gun turrets in some locations. Every ten meters were security doors and hatches. It maintained an efficient industrial appearance.

An occasional Centurion with oversized rifle was positioned at branching intersections of the corridors. Adama felt it was either to maintain security or a potential ploy at intimidation.

"This is the optimum temperature to keep certain functions within this baseship operating. A dry heat is preferable to humidity," Iblis responded after a long second with a mix of casual interest and bored apathy.

He looked back to Captain Vansen and she made eye contact with him briefly, but long enough to ward him off from attempting any more casual conversation.

Adama nodded to himself and let his eyes wander the corridors until they arrived in command.

It was everything he expected it would be. It was about the size of CIC on _Galactica_, but more organized. There were rows of data stream consoles on the periphery and a central command data hub in the center. There were also screen for what Adama assumed were for visual representations of what the robots saw in the Guardian version of a data stream.

"Our progress searching for food sources has been less than optimal," Commander Thais immediately stated as the doors hissed closed and sealed.

Commander Adama motioned for his Marines to remain near the door and for Vansen to follow.

"We have everything except shuttlecraft searching. All jump capable gunships," he informed them, placing his left hand in the data port. On the wall half a dozen meters away a large image was projected. "We've searched dozens of proto-planetary systems as well as planetary systems. Our furthest squadrons with tankers have search three hundred light years from here. Nothing." He removed his hand but the image remained.

"Have there been any new finding on the telescopes?" Captain Vansen asked. She leaned took a step forward to look at the display. "Or are there any possibilities in your computers?" She reasoned there had to be something.

"Negative, Captain," Thais replied. "This region of space is unfamiliar. Habitable planets are _very_ rare in the galaxy, Commander." He was blunt. "This region of space is also barren and there is a star cluster emitting large amounts of radiation and obscuring our wide band telescopes."

The view changed to outline a massive star cluster and a blue, squiggly line outlined the amount of space obscured by the intense light and radiation. It was extensive.

"If we can't find any planet-"

"I'm sorry commander," Iblis interrupted, "but we don't know what else we can do. We transferred all our food to your ships. Our ships were not built to sustain organic life forms indefinitely." Adama looked at him and did not need to be reminded of that. "Everything not in dry storage and sealed was contaminated. We're also using significant amounts of fuel."

Adama felt the urge to thank the Guardian for stating the obvious.

"I'm sure you would help more if you could," Vansen said.

"Indeed. We will continue our search. What if nothing can be found?" Thais asked.

"It won't come to that," Adama said.

"I understand," the machine replied. "But we can wish all we want. The facts are that the food crisis in the fleet is reaching breaking points. How much longer?" Thais asked.

"I appreciate this update, Commander Thais, but there are other reasons why I am here. I understand you have already transferred all the available foodstuffs to our vessels," Adama stated. Thais nodded and Iblis remained motionless. "With _Pegasus_ gone… we're going to try and find her," he said.

Thais nodded and images on a side screen came up. Adama narrowed his eyes to slits in the dim light of the command bridge and stepped forward until he could make out the details. Pictures of the Raptor with Baltar, Six, Soto, and Athena were displayed on the wall.

"We intercepted these being transmitted over the data frequencies," Thais informed him. He handed Adama a piece of paper that had seemingly materialized from nowhere. "This is a log of the transmission and the frequency."

Adama took the paper and quickly glanced at it. It was technical, though the time stamps and frequencies were easy enough to understand. The channel the transmission had been sent was a secure short range civilian data feed.

"We can check out computer logs." He said as he creased the paper and held onto it. "I appreciate it. Is there any manner you may be able to render assistance to finding _Pegasus_?"

"We examined Doctor Baltar's findings presented to us. Our consensus agreed with Doctor Baltar's assessments," Thais replied.

Commander Adama watched the mechanical Centurions tilt their head as they awaited the Commander's response. He'd been getting slightly better at reading the few emotions the mechanical soldiers displayed; a tilt of the head was curiosity or confusion, a backward motion with shoulder involvement surprise, a swagger of the head and neck contempt.

He saw Iblis shift and look at Thais, whose head shot to the side to glare at the administrator.

"I must also inform you-"

"_Commander_," Iblis sternly warned. It visibly surprised him he said that rather than transmit it.

"We have been searching for Command Cyrus and the rest of the Guardian fleet," Thais said and ignored Iblis. "the majority of our jump capable craft have been searching for our fleet."

"And not for food?" Vansen asked, looking quickly to see Adama's reaction and back to the Guardians.

"You should see for yourselves." Thais said. He placed his hand back into the data stream and time elapsed video began playing on the wall monitors. "This is gun camera footage from one of our gunships."

Gunship footage of mangled and burnt hulks of baseship, freighters, fighters of all kinds, support ships, and the occasional Centurion body flashed across the monitors. In the far corner of the image munitions cooked off and eviscerated a Cylon baseship, taking the drifting hulk of what appeared to be an elongated, rectangular Cylon craft of some kind with it.

A side wall monitor showed the locations of wreckage in half a dozen large groups, and dozens of smaller dots, over approximately five hundred million kilometers.

"How long ago was this?" Adama quietly demanded. He had to consciously keep his face neutral and his hand from brushing his chin in disbelief. "Why would you keep something like this from us? After six months?" His eyes locked on the synthetic orbs of Iblis and Thais.

He locked his hands behind his back and awaited their response.

"This alliance has cost us significantly," Iblis told Adama and Vansen evenly. "That is why we have been searching… this ship… it has the means to produce more of us but we can't lose our civilization. You need to understand, we were less than a single percent of the Cylon population which fled the Colonies after the armistice was signed. We don't have the capabilities to fight the Cylons in a full war."

"Our baseships are smaller and less numerous than the Cylons, Commander," Thais carefully pointed out. "We helped you at New Caprica for reasons which shall remain our own…"

Commander Adama almost broke his stoic demeanor and felt like reminding Thais it had been Cyrus that said this was an 'alliance of convenience.' Adama had no doubt the Guardians would be handsomely rewarded by Tech Com on reaching Earth and helping to end the war.

"…and in doing so that has cost us thousands. Our computer compiled the wreckage remnant. We suspect the main facility your ships were at, two manufacturing stations, and a third of our offensive capability were destroyed in that system. That's hundreds of thousands of us, Commander."

Adama could see Vansen looked at him from the corner of his eyes, fidgeting uneasily. It looked like she wanted to say something but he held up his hand.

"Are you leaving the fleet to search for the Guardians?" Adama asked, straight to the point. Betrayal was an emotion he had every right to feel, but instead he felt empathetic.

"One week." Thais said.

"You're going to abandon us, Commander?" Vansen shot out, stepping forward. "You rescue us twice and… now you leave when we need your help?"

"Captain," Adama hissed. Vansen composed herself and stood back. "Commander, the captain is correct. You came to us once and we came to you once. But helping us and keeping this fleet safe… if your race is on the brink of destruction by the Cylons will one more baseship help? This can be your legacy, to help us." The robots stood quietly, the hum of the roving eyes on the Centurions and the sounds of equipment the only noise.

"We don't know if it's too late," Commander Thais said. "We can still hit the Cylons. We don't know how many of our baseships are still out there," he motioned behind him. "The galaxy is massive, Commander. There are an infinite number of places they could hide, or from where we could strike back at the Cylons." He pounded his fist into the command console.

Commander Adama thought back years ago to Ragnar Station and after he'd met Admiral Cain. "I wanted to go back at fight the Cylons. Admiral Cain wanted to go back and fight the Cylons- even retake the Colonies. We realized we could never survive if we did that. We have fifty, now seventy thousand survivors of the Colonies. We're all going to have to rebuild together. Don't throw it away for revenge." He pumped his fist slowly behind his back. "If I'd attacked I would be dead a thousand days now," he said. "Before you seek them out, just ask yourselves if revenge is worth dying for, if it is worth the end of your race."


	29. Chapter 29

AN: Hey... the story has only a few more chapters left so any feedback is greatly appreciated. It's been a bit sparse for a story of this length and number of readers... this story is pretty long, chapters take a long time, so any feedback is very greatly appreciated. Especially since this part has about... three more chapters left, any helpful, constructive criticisms and points on what is working/not working for Part III would be great.

I still have the poll open. If the spin-off is between Part II and Part III it'll probably mean Part III won't be posted for some months.

Also, there are some very _mild_ spoilers in the AN at the bottom- just where the next couple of chapters will go and a little something to look forward to. Enjoy!

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus (+995 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)_==||||||||||

"So that's it? That's the planet?" Admiral Cain asked as she twirled back around and snubbed the rock with a callous wave of her hand. "The hybrid could have just given us its location instead of putting us through all this drama," she snickered.

She turned back around and looked at the planet through the forward viewing room on _Pegasus_, the only place on the entire _Mercury_ class of battlestars where there were actual _windows_. Currently, _Pegasus_ sat in a high geosynchronous orbit with its 'alligator head' poised right at the planet, as if it was about to open its jaws and consume the world.

Admiral Cain had been facetiously contemplating firing all of the battlestar's strategic nukes at the planet just to piss off the hybrid… if she even could. It was a not so serious thought to distract her from the troubles of the past month.

"It's a fraking deserted planet," Captain Shaw commented. She leaned a bit uncomfortably on one of the plush leather seats crew and their significant others would come to and admire the stars. She held up a tablet for the Admiral. "We finished our analysis of the planet. The atmosphere is oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide, and is about thirty-six degrees average temperature where we're looking for the algae. It's got a bunch of algae and kelp all over the place… in fact, it's mostly algae and lower order plant and animal life."

Admiral Cain took the tablet from the captain and studied it carefully.

"So, Planck, the hybrid had us go to a planet stuffed with algae…" she sardonically stated.

The Terminator tilted his head. "It does solve the food problem, Admiral," he pointed out rather quickly. The Admiral sneered. "However, I doubt that is it, _exactly_. There's something on the planet… I can…"

"Feel it?" Shaw asked in rude disbelief.

After Daniel's actions resulted in Gina shooting her, she had been more hostile to the machine in the past week after her discharge from medical.

"Yes, Captain Shaw, _feel it_ would be a very accurate description." Planck said, using her own word against her. "There's nothing overt, nothing obvious, but why come here? Even if you discount that, it'd make sense to assume there is something here we can use."

Major Avion, the displaced _Helios_ CO took a step forward until he was almost touching the glass.

"Whatever it is, John, the star here is about to go nova… it could go now or in fifty years," he informed the three. He spun on his heels. "Admiral, we should probably begin searching the area as soon as possible," he advised.

"An entire planet?" Shaw asked with a shake of the head. "Even with our telescopes pointed at the planet and our computers crunching the data for anything that looks even remotely unnatural there's one-hundred and twenty-two million square kilometers of land to search. Planck, you know how long that will take?" She breathed out. "And-"

"The primary mission is resupply," Cain said. "We're going to find the largest concentration of algae on the planet, scoop it up, and then feed it into our food processors. Doctor Roberts tells me it's going to taste like fraking shit, but it's better than nothing," she shrugged.

"Yes, sir," Shaw immediately agreed.

John nodded his agreement as well. He knew nothing would get done if the safety of _Pegasus_ was in doubt.

"We can connect to your computers and if there is something here, it is likely to be built in a place with little tectonic activity, perhaps near water for resupply of the builders… there are search parameters you can use to narrow your list of possible and plausible locations," John said.

Avion activated a small PDA and stared at the star charts. "Well, we also need to find the fleet. But this star cluster… either our telescopes scout the planet or they try or scout the star cluster to find a way through. The radiation is so extreme-"

"It will fry the electronics on our Raptors even with them hardened against radiation," Cain finished. "We can probably managed twelve hours in the cluster per Raptor before their electronics are fried." She stroked her chin and let her free hand settle on the side of the pocket containing her razor. There were choices which needed to be made.

The star cluster was 'behind' _Pegasus_ and they could reposition the mighty warship so half its telescopes were pointed towards the planet, and half towards the cluster. However, all the telescopes were aligned at the fore of the alligator head, on the underside of the protruding superior section of the battlestar. They could rotate on their axes but would still be limited by their positions under the jutting alligator head.

The telescopes could scan the entire light spectrum, so the cloud cover over half the planet wouldn't be an issue, but priority was finding the fleet, and finding Earth.

"The weight of the worlds…" Cain muttered. Shaw and Avion didn't hear, but she mentally kicked herself when John turned up to look at her. Thanking the Lords he didn't say anything, she continued to stare out the window towards the planet. "What is the likelihood, Major, that we can find the fleet should we be able to pliot a course through the cluster?"

Avion tapped the PDA, studied it for a moment, and then looked back up. "High likelihood, Admiral. We know where the fleet was. If we can jump through the cluster, take some bearing with a Raptor, and then jump back, we can use our computer to extrapolate jump coordinates." He sounded confident.

"The radiation is extreme," Shaw pointed out in protest. "We should send-"

"I'll go. Radiation doesn't affect us, and our skins are able to receive high doses without degradation," John interrupted.

Cain stared at the machine and nodded her agreement. "Either Carter or John will go, captain. Whatever is on this algae planet can wait- I'm not needlessly sacrificing anyone."

"It won't affect the neural net?" Avion asked.

Planck shook his head.

"Captain Shaw, how long will a resupply mission take?" Cain asked.

"With a standard compliment sir… twenty-five days." She hesitated and breathed out slowly between her teeth. She looked at John, Avion, and then at the back of Admiral Cain's head. "If we use the machines and Centurions it could take significantly less."

She saw a tick and the Admiral turn her head, just enough so the captain could see the dark brown of her eyes from the corner of her face. Even still too-dim lights of the observation lounge Shaw could see the Admiral's hesitation and the marks of torture from New Caprica at the hands of machines.

"We need to be cognizant of our limitations. If the Cylons jump with men on the ground there would be nothing we could do to stop them from sending a missile down and Gods forbid, a nuke," Cain observed. "You're good with odds I hear, Planck," she said, referencing his tendency to win numerous Triad games, even beat Starbuck, "so what are the odds of the Cylons finding us?"

In truth, Planck hated calculating odds. Some machines used them to determine their actions, but he found that the most powerful mythological figure in Earth history, one Mr. Murphy, tended to screw up the odds quite readily and spectacularly.

The odds were less than a percent the Cylons were going to attack, Planck remembered, so…

"They're low. Unless Cynet can detect us… it did know something was happening with its hybrid but there is no indication it can track the hybrids. So I would say it's low." He hesitated. "I don't wish to instill any false sense of security."

Captain Shaw took it upon herself to begin her own analysis.

"A quarter of the crew is on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, and the infrequent jumps have made it impossible for some to sleep," Shaw finished. "The docs think we can go a few more weeks on our current supplies… stretch them a bit. And with the Cylons, no DRADIS contacts… and with similar DRADIS ranges, I'd say the chances are less than low… assuming Cynet can't track the hybrid."

Cain remembered back to flipping through Adama's logs. His actions immediately after the fall of the Colonies had been of the most interest to her. How differently, she thought, of how they…

She focused back to the synonymous incident: the jumps every thirty-three minutes and how his crew had nearly collapsed from exhaustion after a week of being chased by the Cylons. They'd come in every thirty-three minutes, following, she presumed, the _Olympic Carrier_. In retrospect she wasn't surprised the Cylons were following the liner; they'd infiltrated everything else. Why not civilian liners?

It was difficult, borderline impossible, she knew, to sleep through an FTL jump. One could get used to an FTL jump but when in sleep it was impossible to not awaken.

Not that she could really empathize at the moment. Months of restless sleep and near insomnia since this began had kept her up at all hours of the night. She stifled a yawn by clenching her jaw and remembered she was going off less than three hours of sleep.

Cain's eyes shot over to Planck when he began offering their services.

"We can help," John said. "If you'll permit it, Daniel and Erica can help as well. He's been in the brig and has complied. The Centurions alone could do the work of a dozen men each," he added.

The Admiral snorted and Captain Shaw huffed.

John looked at them both, understanding their need to be hesitant, but unappreciative of their hostility.

Admiral Cain took a moment. The Centurions were under her command, at least on paper. They'd probably listen to Planck over her, but right now if she ordered them down to the planet, she swore that they'd better comply.

They weren't nearly as indestructible as their Earth cousins, she darkly thought.

"Yes, I guess I should thank him for not breaking out?" the Admiral hissed. She held up her hand as a mix between apology and to signal she had more to say. "Daniel can work on the planet if you or Carter are down there with him. Whatever his motivations were… Captain Shaw was following my orders on my authority, and he countermanded that authority."

She wanted to tell him that was not a good idea on this ship, but held her tongue and mouth tightly closed. Cain felt the tension in the room beginning to build and saw the Avion, a man she considered too close to the machines and Guardians, looking between her and John expectantly.

"I understand Admiral and I won't make excuse for what occurred."

"The situation is also behind us," Avion jumped in. He stuttered when he realized he probably should not have said anything. "We just have a bigger problem…" he looked worriedly at Captain Shaw who was icily glaring at him, "uh… we have more immediate problems and could use their help, Admiral."

He felt half a meter shorter as the petite captain kept staring at him. Avion knew as soon as he'd said 'bigger problems' he'd marginalized Captain Shaw getting shot as that was the implication of Cain and John's statements. He mentally kicked himself and made a note to be a little more careful around the two headstrong, domineering women.

Admiral Cain's eyes rested on him a moment before wavering and moving on to John, to Shaw, and back to the planet. She'd made up her mind.

"We'll search the planet for the largest concentration of algae we can realistically harvest," Cain decided. "You can access the imagery and any data we collect. We will also conduct Raptor overflights of territory on the opposite side of the planet. You can have access to that data as well." She held out her finger. "Once we've found the algae, John, we're going to re-direct the telescopes to finding a way through the star cluster. We'll continue Raptor flights if they're not needed to ferry supplies. Yes?"

John bowed his head. "That is acceptable, Admiral. Do we begin now?"

It wasn't war, but at least it was something other than sitting and waiting.

"We begin now," she declared.

* * *

||||||||||==Algae Planet, Harvest Site (+998 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"It smells horrible down here," Gunnery Sergeant Chris Purcell said, wrinkling his nose. He wiped off a smudge of algae from his upper lip with a small part of his green utilities which had somehow managed to remain clean.

He looked up at the dirtied Centurion he had apparently been talking to. It stopped, looked at him, then twisted its head and bobbed it forward before stalking off with a handful of tubing and metal seal rings.

"They're not big on talking," he heard from behind him. Purcell turned around and saw Chief Laird going through the metal containers and checking off supplies on his clipboard. "You'd be lucky you even got a response." He said as he kept his eyes focused on his task.

Purcell meandered over and helped the Chief lift a heavy crate.

"Thanks," Laird said. He opened the crate and began rifling through it.

"I don't think I got any response from them. Which one was that, anyway?" He asked.

"Uh…" Laird plopped his clipboard down and knocked it on his thigh a few times. He winced, trying to remember. "Did he have a little ding on the left shoulder armor?"

The Marine gunny held up his hands and shrugged, mouthing a 'what'.

"I don't know, it's so bright down here," he complained. For added effect he narrowed his eyes and made his hand into a little visor. "Gods damn, I'm surprised the Admiral is letting them down here."

Laird had gone back to his work and was barely paying attention.

"Well… uh… um, they do work all the time. They're doing the jobs of about a dozen men or so. Plus they don't breathe." He pointed out to the distance. Three of the Centurions were stalking up across the beach about a hundred meters away clearly having just been in the water.

Purcell had sharp eyes and could see the dull gunmetal gray was covered in a green-blue algae color.

"Were they just underwater?" He asked. Laird nodded. "Gods damn."

They each heard a roar as a pair of Raptors swooped in low over the base camp. Both men had to cover their eyes as thrusters kicked up dirt and sand before cutting out.

* * *

The group shot to attention, and Marine clad in stripped down combat uniforms- black pants, short sleeve shirt, and light combat vests, came to attention and opened the door to the large command tent. Admiral Cain confidently marched in, followed by Captain Shaw and two Marines.

"Sir," Major Adama reported in. His heels clicked, shoulders arched back, and he shot up a quick salute. Cain promptly returned it. "We weren't expecting you, sir," he said. "Welcome to the hot and humid algae planet." He said with an open armed grin.

He glanced at the clock over her shoulder. It was 0743 ship time but almost midday here on the planet. It was perhaps the worst part of the day to come down- not that any time was particularly great, but it was beginning to get even more humid than it already was. And the entire team was covered in dirt, grime, and streaks of algae.

Admiral Cain, never a stranger to getting into the thick of action, rolled up her sleeves and pushed the hair off her shoulders, ready for a briefing.

She stood wide and with arms crossed and eyes capable of staring down a Terminator.

"I just wanted to come down without much fan fare, Major… anyway," she snickered, "the last time I was on a planet was in a concrete jail cell having my bones crushed. It'll actually be nice to walk around a little bit." She pushed her hair back off her shoulder. "How are we doing?" She asked to no one in particular.

"We've set up processing and harvesting equipment," Carter said, "and we have hoses running out to a kilometer off shore on a particularly rich bed of algae. Some of the Centurions-"

"Is there anything else… like fish or crab or something besides algae in the waters?"

"Plankton mostly," Adama answered with a shrug. "We found some extensive kelp beds about three kilometers northwest of here. Blue Team is out harvesting those for our immediate needs. They're pretty balanced in carbohydrates, protein and unsaturated fatty acids, vitamins, and minerals."

He handed her a print out on the nutritional analysis of their findings and turned and grabbed a small plastic container from one of the folding tables they'd brought down.

Major Adama slid the container onto the drafting table, letting the Admiral and Shaw look inside. A few curious Marines snuck a peak as well.

Inside were small crustaceans, between four and six centimeters, red, and with thick shells. They were almost entirely shell.

"What the hell are those?" Cain asked, peering cautiously over the edge. She watched the rippling water distort the view of the dozen or so tiny creatures.

"That's about the most advanced sea life we've been able to find, Admiral." Adama said.

"They look like a disgusting bastardized cross between a roach and a snail," remarked Captain Shaw with a visible look of disgust. She had her hand out and was clearly debating with herself to reach in and pick one up. She shivered and stepped back.

They had little antennae on the tops of their head but no visible mouth or eyes.

"They're similar to the trilobites on Earth, during the early Cambrian Period." John informed her. He reached in and picked one of the little creatures up. "They don't have much nutritional value." He began moving it towards his mouth and Admiral Cain and Adama recoiled, disgusted. Suddenly he tossed it back into the container. "Kid-ding," he enunciated with a smirk.

"This planet has been bombarded with enough radiation so nothing significant has been growing," Adama filled in. "Shrubs and weeds and algae and plankton and…" he looked once at the cockroach/snail hybrid and back at John, "…and trilobites."

Cain nodded and marched around the table, occasionally stopping and slipping maps over one another and skimming status reports. She stopped once she'd circumnavigated the table once and was opposite Adama, John, and Carter.

"Give us the room," Cain ordered. She indicated for the Marine bodyguard detail to leave as well. She waited until only her senior staff on the planet was present. Leaning forward on the drafting table, she moved the paper maps around, as if trying to buy time. "We haven't found anything on the planet," she said, looking down at a topographic map of the area, "and we have found a way through the star cluster." She pushed off. "I need one of you, John, Carter, to man the Raptor and find the fleet."

"I'll do it," Carter said.

"It's a risky mission," Cain pointed out with a casual disinterest. "And I think-" she was interrupted before she could finished with _'-John already volunteered_.'

"Our neural net chips are shielded and our skin regenerates quickly. I'll be fine," Carter offered in reassurance.

"It's not that," Shaw spoke up, "it's also the danger posed to the Raptor. Too much time in the cluster and it will degrade the engines, breach the canopy, it could lead to a hundred malfunctions and leave you stranded."

She did an excellent job of stating her concerns as factual observations.

Carter looked at the short, young captain and nodded. A fake muscle under his eyes twitched. He held his mouth open, about to activate his vocalizer when John spoke up first.

"It's a risky mission. I'll fly the Raptor like I said earlier… since I am rated to fly one," he directed to Carter with a smirk. The other machine rolled his eyes but didn't protest.

Cain wasn't about to order Planck not to go after everything.

"You said you found a ship from what you believed to be the Thirteenth Tribe on Earth?" Admiral Cain asked.

John and Carter both nodded. The Admiral was, as always, to the point and direct. Clearing the room to talk about finding the fleet wasn't warranted, but the inevitable discussion of time travel- still a military secret and the specifics concerning the Thirteenth were still classified.

Captain Shaw took out a file she had been holding quietly and offered it to John. He scanned the ten pages and handed them to Carter, who then handed them back to the Captain after committing them to memory.

Captain Shaw summarized her findings anyway; "While you've been down here, on _Pegasus_ we've been running simulations on the likelihood that the Thirteenth would have stopped here. I've crossed referenced everything we have from _Pythia_, Lieutenant Gaeta's analysis, and Doctor Baltar's… it's low."

"We came here for a reason," John adamantly countered. "I refuse… I doubt that it was just over food. The jumps were random; no one could follow- that tells me there was a purpose."

"A feeling again?" Shaw asked dismissively. She lightly snorted with half closed eyes.

"Regardless," Cain began, "if we did come here for a reason… what is the connection? Is there a connection to the ship you found on Earth?"

"We were ordered to that mission by Cameron, with General Connor's authorization- she has ultimate control over the machine units… us to Greece, Omega to stop Skynet during the Cylon War, us to the Colonies forty years later…" he nodded, "so I think there is a connection."

"That tells us nothing," Cain shot at him. Sweat dripped off her brow. Frustrated, she pushed at the maps on the table and stepped back. Her hand reached into her pocket for her razor, and she opened it, flattened the maps, and waved it over a picture of the planet. "We have two separate, possibly parallel theories we're working on to find Earth… that is our ultimate goal, is it not?" She asked.

"_Our_ ultimate goal, as it always has been, is to stop Skynet, and by extension the entity we now refer to as Cynet," John said. There was shallow implication in his voice Admiral Cain was visibly disturbed at. "Part of the method to defeat Skynet, and by extension, Cynet," he quickly elaborated, "is to get to Earth, defeat Skynet… and somehow defeat Cynet."

"_Somehow…?_" Shaw led.

She knew making the robots uncomfortable probably would backfire, but bitterness from being shot tended to override common sense from time-to-time, even for her.

John gave his honest assessment; a shrug. "You tell me how two battlestars and a cruiser and why not… include the Guardians and rebels… how are you going to defeat maybe a hundred or more baseships and millions of Cylons?" He asked. Even with a passive, neutral tone, the _Pegasus_ officer could feel the contempt in the subtext.

"Plasma weaponry?" She asked. They'd hypothesized about adapting some of the turrets to fire plasma bolts, but the materials couldn't be fabricated by any Colonial system.

Neither John nor Carter immediately answered.

John sighed. Brute force weaponry was not going to win this war. "We're AIs. We can download our consciousness into other chips. If Cynet is anything at all like its wayward cousin on Earth then it has a backup plan. And backups for backups for backups…!"

Cain cut off the soon-to-be shouting match with a flick of her hand.

"Like I said, two theories; one is this hybrid thing and one is _Pythia_," Cain began after seconds of palpable silence.

She knew the machines and Shaw were just a few contemptuous statements and accusations away from full blown arguing. And Cain wasn't blind; she'd seen the captain change her attitude towards the machine over the last few years and almost radically after the rescue at New Caprica. She wasn't naïve to the strange, borderline adolescent teenager relationship between the young captain and Carter, either.

Cain made her right hand into a knife and slammed it into her left palm as she spoke. "We had 'the Blaze' which was the Cylon attack on the Colonies, Roslin dying of cancer back there," she thumbed her hand over her shoulder, "the Tomb of Athena which has guided us for thousands of light years and two months ago the _Lion's Head Nebula_- blue and red eye…" she nodded vigorously as she recalled the quote from Pythia. "So what does this mean?" She folded her arms. "We're here. If it's not just for food like you said… how is this linked?"

She wiped her forehead with an open palm after her lecture.

John looked off, staring at the blank off-white walls of the pre-fabricated, algae stained structure. He clicked his jaw as he thought back to what the hybrid had said in that 'realm… in between, where Cynet cannot follow.'

"The hybrid told me there was a remnant of a remnant buried on Earth. The only thing we ever found was that space ship." The machine said. "The remnant of the remnant was the spaceship… so the former remnant could be the tribe from Kobol, the Thirteenth?"

The two women looked at Carter for confirmation, and the machine soldier nodded his head but remained quiet in deference to his command, motioning for them to direct any inquiry at Planck.

Shaw stroked her chin. "It's like you said earlier… one ship was found on Earth. So are you wondering where the rest of the Thirteenth Tribe went to?" Her eyes glistened. "…here? No way… the radiation."

John elaborated; "One ship is all we found under the mountain… unless there were others. But Skynet was only digging there, and the men we rescued said nothing of another site." He looked around. "So where did the Thirteenth go?"

"Not here," Shaw repeated.

"Maybe not to settle," John offered, "maybe not to settle," he echoed, "but the ships never arrived on Earth, the hybrid knew about Mount Parnithia… Admiral," he turned to the woman, "we have to continue searching. We _need_ _Pegasus_ to continue searching. The answer is here, it has to be."

Cain held back rolling her eyes at the tunnel vision threatening to engross the machines. "You know as much about where the Thirteenth went as we do. The _Sacred Scrolls_ tell us a 'caravan' left… other than that…" she offered a sympathetic smile and a small shrug.

"Then let me talk with the hybrid again," John offered.

"Absolutely not," the Admiral shot and cut of any other debate with a knife strike of the hand. Exasperated she turned and stalked off, then swirled back and stopped half a dozen paces in front of John. "Never ask me something like that again… not after what happened." She looked quickly at Shaw and then back at the machines. She clicked her tongue quietly, as an internal monologue ran on how to resolve this situation. "We're almost done mapping a way out of the star cluster... even with your computational abilities it'd take a week to jump around the cluster… so we're sending a Raptor through it."

"A Raptor?" Adama asked. He'd maintained a hawk-like interest in the ongoing debate between the Admiral and the machine. "The radiation is extensive… the heat… the ionized plasma… we could lose a Raptor if it misjumps." From the corner of his eye he saw Shaw shrug and look away.

Cain wagged her finger. "That's true, but _Pegasus_ is needed here for the moment. We're close… so, Planck, you offered… you don't eat so there's no need to expend rations… and radiation doesn't affect you… I'll send a Raptor down for you when we need you to pilot the Raptor and find _Galactica_."

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_ (+998 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Commander Adama watched from a distance as Doctor Cottle quietly handed off a small backpack of medical supplies to Athena. A stare of 'you're-acting-like-a-fraking-idiot' was plastered on his face as the grumpy doctor recited to Baltar what was required to keep himself healthy.

The Old Man, looking off into the distance in the hanger deck, smiled to himself when as if on cue the bastard of a doctor began lecturing, quite sternly, the Doctor and questioning his sanity, and calling him an idiot for still insisting he be allowed on this mission with the Six, the Eight, and the Terminator.

"Desperate times, desperate measures," quipped President Roslin as she rocked gently on her heels. She stood abreast of the Commander, almost a mirror image of his calm form, watching the last supplies being loaded onto the Raptor. "I wonder if it's some sort of guilt driving Baltar to go with them?" She wondered, motioning to the Doctor walking slowly to the wing of the Raptor. "This is unlike him."

Caprica Six extended a gloved hand to him and gently helped him up the wing.

"We hate the man so much… maybe…"

The President snorted and couldn't help herself to laugh. "Bill, you're very trusting, but even you can't tell me he's turned a new leaf. I don't care… I really don't," he easily admitted, "and it's been six months… I won't care if it's been six years or six centuries. Do I have to remind you of the death warrants he signed? _Baltar's_ death squads?" She motioned at the former president with her hand as he ducked into the Raptor. "Does he think this will get him a 'get out of jail free card'?" She rolled her eyes.

"And we're sending him on a mission," the Commander pointed out simply. "With two Cylons… three machines."

"I can still cancel it," she threatened lightly.

The President snorted as she closed her eyes, trying to wash away the unclean and very disturbing images she had concerning the relationship between the doctor and the Six.

"Whatever it is that motivates him… I don't pretend to want to understand," Adama commented. He looked around the landing bays as the knuckle draggers tried to feign apathy towards what was happening around the special mission Raptor, and failing spectacularly at it. "I'm as uncomfortable as they are with this."

He was looking at the deckhands and Roslin followed his wary eyes.

"Aren't we all?" Roslin rhetorically asked. She pushed up her glasses and turned. "You trust them," she stated.

"I trust two of them. We'll see how the other two do."

"Gods, I hope your right," Roslin stressed. She folded her arms and rubbed her forearms as a sudden chill washed over her. "I just have a bad feeling…"

Adama looked at her, a sort of '_oh really'_ look obvious from the slight lowering of his head and the eyes rolled up into their socket above his glasses.

She laughed. "I know a bit cliché, but still… bad feeling…" she said with a friendly open palmed pat to the arm.

The President turned back around when Adama stepped forward and put out his hand to guide her towards the Raptor. Athena and Soto were standing at the wing tip, Helo next to Athena, and Baltar and

Roslin watched the Six and Baltar sitting beside each other in the Raptor, comfortable with each other but uncomfortable with everything around them. There was no one to wish them a safe trip, to say to them 'good hunting', or anyone to care if the two of them survived.

'_And that's how it should be…_' Roslin whispered.

"We're all ready, Commander, Madam President," Athena reported loudly. "All the equipment is loaded and we ran another test this morning. The modification to the sensor dome is good to go."

"Yes, good to go," Soto echoed. "We have enough food and water for ten days and waste collection containers."

Roslin winced at that.

Athena turned to handle a last flight checklist from Chief Tyrol, and Soto made one last visual inspection of the Raptor.

Commander Adama gave a quick visual inspection of the sensor dome, which was now about three times as wide and twice as large. The science he didn't quite understand, but somehow it was supposed to locate the 'quantum wave fronts' or whatever Doctor Baltar had been babbling about.

The Six seemed to have understood quite well which did add to a general unease about the mission. He trusted that Soto and Athena knew enough to not be duped by Baltar or the Six.

"So you understand this?" Roslin leaned over and whispered.

"Not really," he whispered back. "The military was experimenting with FTL communications for decades before the Cylon War. I read a classified paper on it about six years back… they sent a few bytes of data but the power requirements were massive…" he chuckled, "the experiment cost more than this entire fleet would brand new."

"The good military-industrial complex?" Roslin asked. She looked over and winked.

The Old Man grunted a soft reply.

Athena turned back and waited in front of the President and Commander after handing a final flight check list back to Chief Tyrol and a deck hand disconnected the tyllium fuel lines.

"Then we should keep you waiting, Lieutenant Agathon," Roslin excitedly said, "and good hunting, I believe, is the correct term?"

"Yes, ma'am," the pilot confirmed with a nod, "hunting for the _Beast_."

"Lieutenant, Soto," Adama addressed each one individually, "Both of you have proven your loyalty to this fleet- a Cylon and a Terminator. I had my doubts… the Fleet is relying on both of you." He warily looked up at Baltar and Six. Baltar had been staring down at the little group, but quickly, sheepishly, looked away. "Keep them in line. Cylon sister, fellow-machine, whatever you see them as… I know you will both do your utmost to find _Pegasus_ and reunite the fleet."

He came to attention, with Sharon and Soto following. They exchanged sharp, crisp salutes.

"Good hunting," he said and added as one last order, "Find them."

* * *

||||||||||==Special Mission Raptor (+1,001 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"And… once again… drum roll…" Athena expectantly began looking over at her co-pilot. "Come on, Jo… no drum roll?"

"No."

Athena slapped her knees in exacerbation.

"Just once?" She looked at Soto with dark, brown puppy eyes. "This is number twenty-something."

Jo looked over to Athena and the bio-Cylon swore her machine pilot was bored and tired. But she smiled a wide, toothy smile, and pulsed her eyebrows up for Jo to make a drum roll.

Reluctantly Jo hit the central console once, hesitated, and then hit it a second time.

"Wow… it's like that took a lot of effort," the bio-Cylon quipped. She winked and chuckled at her co-pilot, who, after seventy hours together, she had been getting to know quite a lot better than over the last few years almost.

It was these little things which kept boredom from breaking the group of four. Athena had figured the boredom was worse for Baltar since he couldn't project, but hadn't really cared enough to bring it up or even talk to him except for a few sentences at a time, and only when required.

The limited space in the Raptor was doing a sufficient job of raising tempers, mainly between Athena and Baltar, but after the first day the four had gotten into a pattern; Soto didn't need to stretch so she could sit in the co-pilot seat indefinitely, Baltar fidgeted a lot so when he was fidgeting Athena would sit up front, and for a few hours each day she'd let Baltar sit up front so Athena and Caprica could talk Cylon sister-to-sister.

The console beeped and the newest set of data point readings began scrolling across the screen.

Baltar came up along with Caprica. All four of them had removed their helmets shortly after the first FTL jump- procedure was helmets when launching, so they'd obliged.

"Do you see anything, Doctor?" Sharon asked over her shoulder. She was looking at the scrolling data points as they blurred across the screen. Caprica and Jo were doing the same.

Baltar was relying on a tablet computer perched restfully on his forearm which was displaying the data at a far more acceptable, far slower pace.

"I'm not sure…" he said with clear distraction. His eyes scanned from one side of the tablet to the other over one line of readings and then down to the next.

He popped out the stylus on the tablet and brought up a series of graphs and wavelength readings the computer had calculated.

"Humans…" Sharon lamented with a slight grin on her face.

"I could threaten to terminate him if he doesn't hurry," Jo offered.

"Uh… that stopped being not funny about twenty jumps ago," Baltar deadpanned as he leaned his head in between the two. "The morbid humor aside, yes… yes, I did find something," he proudly declared. His mood instantly changed. "Yes, in fact, I think we've picked up their trail. Now that I know what we're looking for…" he began tapping, drawing, and writing with his stylus at a fervent pace.

Ten minutes later he handed Six his tablet which she looked through with marked interest before handing it to Sharon and Jo.

Soto turned in her seat to face the rear cabin. "Are you sure about this?" She asked, deathly serious. "We can't afford detours."

"Unless you think I'm wrong, put the data points into the computer," Baltar said, a borderline order, "and prove me right and your suspicions wrong." He looked away and then back at the machine. "Or you can put your own data points in, but you needed me for a reason, so put yours in then if you don't trust me," he dared.

The machine narrowed her eyes. "I was merely asking for confirmation."

Baltar leaned forward, grabbed the tablet and tossed it towards Soto, who caught it with a blurred movement of her hand. "There's you're confirmation," he declared, tapping the tablet and shoving it harder into her hand, "so put it into the computer so we can find _Pegasus_ and get out of this depressingly cramped Raptor… I'm tired of fraking pissing in bags!" He yelled. "Pissing in bags… because I just want to go back to my fraking cell!" He sarcastically hissed.

"Doctor, get a hold of yourself," Jo calmly advised. "Caprica?" She turned towards the blonde bio-Cylon, whose hair seemed to maintain an unnatural curly bounce to it even with three days of no showers. "Please input these instructions into the computer." She handed her the tablet. "And Doctor, do not shout at me."

She pulsed her eyes. Baltar just glared at her.

* * *

"So you actually liked to go shopping?" Athena asked, her mouth hanging slightly opened as she pictured what could only be described as a killing death machine sitting beside her and reminiscing about… shopping.

"Ye-… It served a purpose. It was what was expected as a human female prior to Judgment Day. I enjoyed the challenge of maintain my status as an infiltrator. That required knowing and understanding human fashion trends for early twenties females," she explained. "We may not have interacted much with people but we hardly lived in a bubble."

Athena gave the machine a friendly, gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Sure… it 'served a purpose' only… anything in particular?"

The machine nodded. "Yes. Boots took extra time to examine- there had to be a proper mix between function and style." She looked over and Athena, who was mischievously smiling at this little tidbit of information, immediately brought the corners of her lips down to a completely emotionless, passive position. "Carter liked sunglasses and John liked cargo pants," she added.

"Oh… now you're just trying to distract from the fact you admitted to following fickle fashion trends so you're trying to distract me." She tapped her head in the same manner the machines had done to remind others they weren't human. "No neural net, but bio-Cylon augmented brain, remember? I can multitask so you won't distract me that easily. Anyway, I have Boomer's memories and it was obviously the same on the Colonies; girl stuff. She enjoyed doing 'girl stuff' when on leave. Me? I didn't get to the Colonies until they were nuked… so…" she shrugged.

"The Cylons seemed to be obsessed with what could be described as fashionable clothing from Caprica… except for the Doral models I saw on New Caprica who tended to wear a lot of beige, teal, and burgundy," Jo said. "Where did the Cylons get it from?"

"Uh…" the Eight looked back to the Six, who was talking with Baltar. She leaned closer to Jo so Caprica wouldn't hear. "The Sixes… they were a little obsessive about it. The Fours were especially annoyed at times with the Sixes and their… obsessions… they said they'd never seen anyone, human or Cylons, more obsessed with going into battle with manicured nails and perfectly curly platinum blonde hair."

"I don't understand why you all wouldn't wear uniforms," Soto observed. "While a civilization you are completely militarized."

"_They_, Jo, _they_. I'm a Cylon but not a part of them anymore." She played with her hands. "It's not… really a civilization… anymore," she weakly stammered.

Jo felt a tinge of empathy for Athena, but they needed to concentrate on the mission. Still, she felt she had to say something.

"My mistake. Wouldn't uniforms or something similar also be easier to produce and supply? Logistically."

"Well… huh…" Athena stared off into space, "now that I think about it… maybe we didn't want to since we all looked the same? Something to differentiate us, give us some personality? Of course the Cavils all tended to wear black and fedoras and the Dorals beige, teal, and burgundy like you said." An exaggerated shrug followed her hypothesis. "I guess it really didn't matter all that much… collective consciousness and whatnot."

They sat for a few minutes until the last DRADIS sweeps and the wave front detector built into the sensor dome atop the Raptor finished collecting its data.

"I don't see you and Carter much in the rec rooms by yourselves," Athena said. "Why is that? You all are on _Galactica_ a fair bit."

Jo shrugged. "John has always been better at superfluous human interactions."

Athena wasn't sure, but the casual, almost dismissive tone worried her.

"I don't know, it doesn't seem very superfluous."

"Not all the time," Jo conceded.

"Ah huh… well… I know you all spend a lot of time working on whatever it is you all work on, but getting some fun in is a good way to relax." She looked over the terminator, who was sitting as rigid as a statue. "And I know you all like to relax and do things other than work. We Cylons project and-"

"We can create virtual simulations as well."

"It's not the same." She looked over lazily to the machine who was focused a bit unnaturally on starring at the empty readout display from the wave front detector. "You know, human friends aren't that bad. Be more personable, friendly and all that," she offered with a spring in her voice.

Not in a hurry to answer, the machine leaned forward and flicked at a gauge which had been blinking green until its returned to its constant light green glow.

"Why? We'll eventually lose everyone," Jo grimly responded.

She turned around and glared at Baltar, who stopped for a long, drawn out second and stared at her. Caprica looked back, and then gently grabbed the man's cheek and turned his head.

"He won't do anything," Athena reassured the edgy machine. She understood Soto's desire to find her friends. "We'll find Carter and John." She leaned back in her seat but winced when one of her ribs pressed a bit too hard into the seat.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she shook her hand for Jo not to worry, "just some bruised ribs still… Cynet built us to recover quickly, but we're still-"

"Biological," Jo finished.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Athena added.

* * *

"So… do you suppose once we get back to the fleet they'll kill us?" Baltar wondered. His eyes were locked forward, passed Caprica, staring between the two machines in the cockpit and out the canopy into the empty black void. He blinked himself back and longingly turned towards Caprica. "No matter what… they'll kill us, me… and you even with your model an enemy of Cynet."

Caprica gently rubbed the top of his hand with her thumb and happily smiled when she saw him close his eyes and relax.

"I don't think that will happen," she said to try and reassure him. She didn't believe it enough herself to keep her from saying she was sure. "They've held you for six months… don't you think…" she didn't finish.

Baltar stroked his face, and wiped his runny nose with a punch of his thumb to the side of his index finger.

"What about trying to do something to… I don't know signal the rebel Cylons?" he asked. He leaned forward. "I could… I could change… I could do…" he was searching around desperately when his eyes locked with the machine sitting in the cockpit.

He was frozen as his mind raced over the possibility she had heard him and was preparing to kill him for what he'd just suggested. He felt Caprica's cool palms on his cheeks and she slowly brought his head around and broke the death stare the machine had locked on him. He was rigid and stiff as Caprica brought his face into her chest and let him rest the crevice of her shoulder.

For a long, enduringly painful minute he waited for the small hands of the machine to grab him by his collar, wrap around his throat, and snap his neck.

"It's okay, Gaius," he heard Six's voice and felt her hands in her hair. He pushed back.

"How did this even happen?" He wondered. He knew, his rational mind did, but circumstances kept forcing him to ask the same question over and over. With three years gone the destruction of the Colonies Baltar still didn't understand how much it still affected him. "Scientist to President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol to collaborator and stooge to prisoner… president? President… ha! President of Nothing…." He said bitterly. "Fifty-thousand people… president of non-existent colonies…" he added sourly.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," the Six said.

His eyes locked with hers only to break as a tear fell from the corner. He rubbed it off her cheek with a tender swipe of his thumb.

"Why? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Deception… my deception of you, all of this," she waved around the small Raptor cabin. "Everything I've put you through the last three years has been because of me. I lied to you… I got you to give me access to the mainframe… it was a lie…"

"All of it?" He whispered the question.

"Not all of it…"

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder. She could hear him whispering in her ear.

"I knew… I knew the moment you saved me from the nuclear explosion," he said. "When you told me you were a Cylon I knew you had lied about everything but then… I knew when you saved me… you loved me and that I loved you."

* * *

||||||||||==In Orbit of the Algae Planet (+1,002 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

"_This is Pegasus Actual to Blanks, status update?"_

Planck double checked his calculations, running the data through his neural net in parallel uncountable other processes. A distracting, but important, interesting process in his neural net was that he felt a certain ease with once again being referred to as 'Blanks.' Except for Starbuck, no one really had used the old call sign, now three years retired.

He thumbed the black transmit button. A dim yellow light illuminated on the control panel indicating an outbound transmission: "Last check on the calculations, _Pegasus Actual_," John said. "Calculations are completed."

He pushed the thrust lever down into the central console and felt the slight kick in gee forces pushed him and press him to the back of his padded seat. A Mark VII Viper, a dim sky blue, raced past, it's blue-white engines shaking the Raptor.

John grinned as the Viper came up into escort, spun on its long axis, and came up parallel. The black, blocky lettering of 'CPT KARA THRACE' and 'STARBUCK' were highlighted and enlarged in the machine's hub.

"Little going away present, Starbuck?" He commented as his hands flew across the controls and readied for FTL jump.

"_I figured why not… you're only going to be jumping through perhaps one of the most irradiated star clusters this side of the galaxy,"_ she pointed out so matter-of-factly. He could see her looking over and grinning a wide, toothy smile.

He shook his wing as a friendly goodbye, his finger now hovering over the small red rectangle which would launch him and the Raptor out of this universe and deposit him instantaneously ninety percent of the way through the cluster.

"_Raptor 0-4-0 you're clear to-"_

"DRADIS contact!" John, Starbuck, and _Pegasus_ shouted over the wireless simultaneously.

Blanks had kicked back the Raptor, flipping it gently, and hit turbos until he was five thousand klicks behind the CAP and assumed DRADIS picket duties. Starbuck and the CAP raced forward, the brilliant blue of their turbo engines leaving a fine, quickly fading trail of ions, as they closed on their targets.

Alert fighters were in the tubes and launching, a half squadron would be sixty seconds behind Starbuck and her wingmen.

"_Starbuck, this is Apollo, any ID?"_ Major Adama asked hurriedly. "Alert Vipers are sixty seconds behind."

"_Uh… Pegasus… I think you can hold out on the alert Vipers…"_ the _Pegasus_ CAG stated in her typical Starbuck ambiguity.

* * *

Blanks felt the jolt as the taxi slid Raptor 0-4-0 into its bay. The engines coughed and the low-humming whine slowly subsided as he began flicking the half dozen switches to turn off the engines. He powered down, neglecting his post-flight checklist, flicked off his harness, and almost jumped over the seat as the hatch took its seven slow seconds to open.

Admiral Cain and Captain Shaw were already racing down the landing deck ladders at a dangerous speed, Marines following behind them, and a large deck gang had assembled.

The _Galactica_ Raptor was blistered and peeling. Where a dull tan thermal coating had been there were diffuse and patchy silvery gray blotches on severely compromised heat tiles. The half-dozen members of the alert Hazardous Material Team- Alpha for the starboard flight pod were already in their thick gray contamination suits and spraying the entire Raptor with thin white foam.

Through the cockpit the faces of Athena and Soto were visible as they removed their helmets. Baltar and Caprica Six were almost hidden from their positions in the bucket seats at the rear of the Raptor. Already Soto and Planck had exchanged the entirety of their experiences since _Pegasus_ so suddenly jumped thirty-eight days ago.

"Move it people!" John heard. A fiery authoritative voice was shouting at the knuckle draggers to set up the isolation tents. "Everyone stand back!" Captain Shaw yelled, giving orders as Admiral Cain's proxy. "Move on back!" she yelled a third time. She held one hand behind her back and pointed to a spare Viper bay. "Set it up over there," she ordered the Haz Mat team.

They wheeled the containment unit and portable showering device over to where she'd pointed.

"Dear Gods…" John, Shaw, and Cain heard from behind them. Doctor Roberts stood abreast of the trio. "You said they went through the star cluster? Who in Hades is in there?" he demanded with a glance over to Shaw and Cain and back to the blistered Raptor, now covered in the sud-like decontamination foam.

He was already fiddling with a stethoscope and checking his anti-radiation medications and other cocktails in small emergency medical bag.

"Soto, Athena…" John began. He paused and faked a cough. "…and Caprica Six and Baltar."

Cain and Shaw felt their jaws slacken simultaneously. Both women had an urge to slam the machine in the face. "What?" "Excuse me?" One or the other both said in unison.

John ignored them and even as impassive as he made himself to be, he was anxious for the hatch to open to see his friend.

"We need to return to the fleet as soon as possible," he informed the two women.

"Why?" Cain demanded. "What did she say to you?" She asked, knowing the machine in the Raptor would have sent out a signal to the one next to her.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_==||||||||||

Commander Adama stood the watch accompanied by his valiant XO who had almost collapsed from exhaustion not twelve hours earlier. Tigh, after a quick rest in his rack and the obligatory grumblings, had returned and as the Old Man saw it, with more energy than before.

"It's still deathly quiet," Tigh grimly observed. The corners of his lips were depressed into a strangely exaggerated frown and a small bit of extra skin was hanging loose.

The Old Man nodded in agreement with the observation, careening his neck for a better view of DRADIS he took in the positions of the fleet and the little green blips on the monitors. What worried him more than anything were the small green triangles- symbols assigned to Guardian craft.

The number of small green triangles significantly outnumbered the small green circles with three little stick-like lines poking out. More Raiders were out there protecting the fleet than Vipers; three to one almost.

"Scheduled DRADIS contact," Helo said from his position on the opposite side of the command console. "Two Guardian gunships on inbound, CAP is going in for a visual ID confirmation," he dutifully reported.

Tigh just groaned and tapped at the plastic top which was illuminated with a 2D representation of the sector of space they were currently occupying. He looked over to the Old Man and saw a bit of a loose uniform around the waist and collar.

"You losing weight, Bill?" He snickered and then looked down and laughed.

"Only if you're losing hair, Saul," he chided. "…Helo… when is the next shipment of rations due to leave the ship?"

"Sir… we… sent the last stock of dry rations an hour ago. We have a few more days left and that's it." The Tac Ops responded, dejected and almost defeated.

"Frak," the XO snarled. "We're down to less than half rations… riots on a dozen ships and most of our Marines too tired to work… this isn't looking good, Bill." He said. Tigh straightened and tugged down on his loose tunic. Flattening the bulge from the extra material he wringed his hands and could feel how bony they felt.

"We've survived worse," the husky voice of the Old Man pointed out. "We didn't survive three years running…"

He heard a little gargle from his XO.

"You know the thousandth day passed a few days back?" Tigh asked. The question would have been rhetorical under normal conditions but right now the XO wasn't sure if the Old Man had truly remembered. "I thought about cracking open a little bottle…"

Adama blew out in a gruff manner. "I remembered, Saul. And…" he looked his XO up and down, "even like a stick you look better," he lowered his voice, "without the bottle. How long's it been?"

"I lost count, Bill," he said with glazed eyes. "I just take it a day at a time. That's all I can do after losing…" He felt a strong hand squeeze his arm.

"DRADIS contact!" Lt. Gaeta yelled.

Both Commander and Executive Officer snapped back and their combat instincts took over.

A dozen heads throughout the CIC shot up and focused on individual DRADIS monitors spread in the CIC. Commander Adama's eyes narrowed hoping against reason that this would be some sort of… 'miracle'… to save them. That somehow everything would be alright, everything would work out like at Ragnar, Kobol, New Caprica…

The red open circle with an 'unknown' plastered in the center began accelerating at extreme DRADIS range towards the fleet.

"Anything?" Commander Adama demanded of Gaeta. "Have all ships stand by for emergency jump… Colonel Tigh, order the CAP to intercept."

"_Galactica to CAP, intercept unknown bogey and report visual identification_!" Tigh barked into the sound-powered phone. The familiar blips of Vipers and Raiders lazily swerved on the DRADIS and moved towards interception.

"Sir… picking up Colonial IFF…it's…" Gaeta's report stopped mid sentence as the senior officers stood, wide-eyed and shaking. They knew who it was but needed to _hear_ it. "It's _Pegasus_."

* * *

In a scene almost reminiscent of two and a half years ago hundreds of _Galactica_ crew were assembled on the flight deck. However, it wasn't a ceremony where everyone was assembled into impromptu rank-and-file. No. It was a hazardous collection of hundreds of sailors and dozens of Raptors feverishly unloading and transferring what little food _Pegasus_ had mustered to process in the last two days.

"Admiral Cain…" Adama warily greeted the equally tired woman. He saluted. She extended a hand, which he shook proudly and willingly. "It's good to see you again."

"It is so good to see _Pegasus_ again," Roslin echoed. Her smile was meager and her body was being driven forward by adrenaline. "Bill, this food needs to be transferred to the civilian fleet." She said. Her eyes scanned the dozens of containers being loaded onto dollies and disappearing into the service tunnels connecting the starboard and portside landing bays.

"We need to keep it here," Cain said. She looked behind her and ushered John, Jo, and Athena forward. "They can explain… to make a long story short, we need to begin transferring everyone we can into _Pegasus_, _Helios_, _Galactica_, and the Guardian baseship."

Two dozen Raptors had launched from the bowels of _Pegasus_ for the fleet. Twelve to _Galactica_, eight to _Cloud 9_, and four to _Helios_.

"Lieutenant Agathon…" Roslin said to get the Cylon's attention. "Thank you… for everything." She nodded and stood back. The Cylon acknowledged with a somewhat appreciative smile and the president hoped the Cylon understood her thanks had been genuine. "Now… what is it that we have to do?" She asked.

"We found a planet, the hybrid, she took us-"

"The hybrid?" Adama interrupted.

"Uh," Cain groaned. "Commander, I'll explain everything soon," her stern features and glare in her eyes at the moment could pierce hyperalloy, "and what happened. But the short story is that since we vanished we jumped dozens of times due to the Cylon hybrid manipulating out FTL. It deposited us on some world we're calling the Algae Planet and Planck believes there is something there…" the tiredness in her voice was inadequate to hide the annoyance and not quite subtle disbelief.

"Gods…" Roslin muttered, dragging her hand over her forehead and through her hair. "How do we know… that-"

"The algae planet… it has abundant supplies of algae and kelp. It's early in its planetary development and we can harvest enough to feed us indefinitely," Cain explained. "How much longer before the fleet is completely out of food?"

"Days," Adama said.

"Sir," John spoke up, "we should begin transferring civilians to the battlestars and baseship immediately."

"Civilians? Transfers?" Roslin echoed in confusion. She held up her hands for everyone to stop. "Explain why we need to transfer everyone and why we need to load up the battlestars… and put _civilians on the baseships_."

She had no intention of hiding her disapproval for putting civilians on a Guardian- they were still Cylon- craft.

John nodded once forcefully. "Jo transmitted all the data the Raptor collected to me. The star cluster has intense radiation and heat. The civilian ships are not fortified and shielded against radiation. The cluster is a super star cluster with thick clouds of ionized plasma and is dozens of light years thick on the Z plane and hundreds wide and tall on the X and Y planes… with our modifications we can jump the warships almost to the edge of the cluster, but it will still require two jumps. But we have a ship full of people who aren't affect by extreme light or radiation," John pointed out, "which will make this easier for us."

"The Cylon…. Guardians…" Roslin whispered. She looked up at John's eyes and swore she could see him gloating behind those fake, vacant blue orbs.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

Doctor Gaius Baltar flipped over the last paper before neatly stacking the papers and closing the manila file folder. Gently he set the papers on the edge of his cot and stared forward at the beautiful platinum-blonde woman pacing around his cell.

"_Are you going to trust him, Gaius?_" The Six asked as she circled around Doctor Gaius Baltar and his visitor. "_I wouldn't trust him… he'll use you… they used Gina… pretending to help her but in their… cold, mechanical hearts they just wanted information on the Cylons."_ She grinned. "_To kill them, to kill me."_

"Your models are in civil war," he whispered, keeping his eyes on the seductively dressed Six, running them up and down her leggy body and focusing on her breasts.

"Excuse me, Doctor?" Planck questioned curiously. "Civil war?"

"Oh…" his eyes darted back down and met Planck's. "Yes… I was just talking to myself, John, about the similarities between the Cylons and Earth. The Cylons are in civil war and from what I understand your race of free machines is indirectly a civil war. True, yes?"

"_The cycle always repeats." _Six whispered.

Baltar felt the hot air on his neck.

"The cycle always repeats," he echoed. He paced. "I mean now we have the Guardians who split from the Cylons forty years ago and now the… rebels or whomever splitting from the Cynet forces… and Skynet and Tech Com machines split…" he huffed, "it's just an interesting observation which needs to be made." His eyes wandered to the machine before looking over him at the Six. "And one which is never too old to make…" he grinned as she frowned.

"Doctor Baltar, you're stalling." John said. He let his eyebrows drop to feign tiredness.

"I help find _Pegasus_ and Admiral Cain throws me in the brig? Finding _Pegasus_ saved the civilian fleet. Can you tell me how much longer until we were all completely out of food?" He threw his hands up and then latched them to his hips and began bobbing his head. "Days?" His hand shot up and wagged his index finger. "How many times is this? I've saved Roslin's life three times now and this fleet twice and still I get thrown in here... who do you think saved Admiral Cain from being executed on New Caprica!"

"I didn't know that, about New Caprica," John admitted.

He stopped and mockingly admired his new brig cell.

"Oh yes… they wanted to execute her… the last living flag officer from the Colonies…," he nodded, walking over to the bunk beds. "Caprica Six was my ally… and…" he punched the bed and his attitude changed. "These are much springier that mine on _Galactica_…" he gestured to the walls, the lights, the ceiling, the floors, "it is just such a modern appearance," he scoffed.

"Doctor Baltar. Concentrate." John advised.

"_Yes, Gaius… concentrate_," his Six mockingly echoed.

"I helped you," he stepped forward and jammed a finger into the machine's chest, "and I helped them," he threw his arm out to the side and let it slap his thigh, "and I get put in a cell. Again."

"I'm offering you a chance to prove yourself," John said. He was patient, and there was time before the first jump back to the algae planet. The machine had seen the look of utter disappointment, shadowed by extreme fatigue and exhaustion, when Admiral Cain had ordered his and Caprica's immediate imprisonment. "I need you to explain to me the invention of yours."

Baltar had moved back to his cot and staring down at his hands. "Why?"

"It's important. There _must_ be something on the planet. You finished reading the reports on the hybrids," he said with a gesture to the stacked files. "What is your assessment?"

A short snort was his first response.

"Where do I begin? Cynet's science and the hybrids are beyond anything the Colonies ever had… I only found the wave fronts because I had limited experience in FTL communications development," Baltar frustratingly stated. "And some things are constant… some things no matter how advanced still rely on basic principles. I just exploited the basic sciences between whatever it is the hybrids truly _are_."

"That is why I am asking you. You have experience. We don't."

Baltar closed his eyes. "So what do you think is on the planet?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know," he echoed.

"_Perhaps it is something… a weapon… a relic?" _The Six offered. She put her hand on his shoulder for added confidence.

"A weapon?" He asked the Six as he stared at the machine.

"That is a possibility… if this was the way to Earth it is possible the Thirteenth left something here."

"Or the hybrid led you on a wild trek across half the galaxy?" Baltar dismissed.

"Can I make you a deal?" John asked.

Baltar's gave the machine his undivided attention.

"What deal?"

"If we reach Earth…" John thought carefully about what he would offer, "…you will be placed into the custody of the civilian governing authority and be offered clemency in return for your services as a science advisor for Tech Com."

"You can't offer-"

"This fleet has nowhere to go, Doctor. It tried New Caprica, _you_ tried New Caprica, and it was a failure of monumental proportions. Earth is where this fleet is heading… even an Earth embittered and broken by war because _they have nowhere else to go_. When, if, we arrive on Earth the fleet will need the support of Tech Com and General Connor. In exchange for the fleet being granted his exchange I will inform Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, and President Roslin that you will be transferred to my authority immediately and placed under my supervision. That will be the condition for Earth."

"You would lead them away from Earth? Damn yourself?"

Planck leaned in. "I would lead this fleet across the universe and away from Earth if it meant saving Earth from the Cylons." He said evenly, his blue eyes bearing into the dark and distant eyes of the scientist.

Baltar shook at the truth he perceived behind the statement. "You wouldn't," he whispered.

"Earth is my priority… my home… the Colonies are only… a mission, an assignment." He stood back up. "Seventy thousand compared to billions… billions, Doctor."

"_Is whatever is down there so important he would jeopardize everything after coming so far?" _The Six asked herself.

Baltar had focused on her and to the machine's back, yelled out; "You don't even know what's down there… would you jeopardize your position in this fleet? Could it be that important?" Baltar demanded to know.

"Think of what I offered you, Doctor." John said to the blast door. He motioned to the Marine outside to let him out. He grinned. "And yes, Doctor, I do believe whatever is down there is worth that risk. Our first jump will be soon. We'll be back over the planet by the end of the day. I need your answer then." He turned around as he stepped out. "If it's a weapon… I need an opportunity to save Earth, Doctor. Remember what I said if I can't." He warned.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_==||||||||||

President Roslin leaned in until she was almost shoulder to shoulder with Commander Adama. She was nervous, hungry, and tired. Her nervousness was only compounded by the imposing form of a robot standing across the CIC. Not one of the Terminators, but one of the Guardians in its IL-S body. This one was different, but no less imposing than its brethren. Under the meticulously tailored black uniform was a robot capable of killing with a frightening efficiency.

"Madam President, are you all right?" Adama whispered. She felt a warm breath on his cheek from the way his face was facing her.

She grabbed his left arm with her hands, squeezing with her right and patting his bicep with her left.

"I'm just nervous, Bill. The other ones you get used to… but this is something different. I thought the Erica one was their only copy. How many others are out there?" She asked. Her eyes were locked on the Guardian who was hovering over the rear bank of communication stations. It's back was bent, hunched forward slightly, and it was talking to a crewman and pointing at something. "Is this necessary?"

"Yes… they recalled all their gunships and this is the condition. They want a liaison…" Adama quietly stated. He looked up to study the DRADIS. Roslin saw his focus was a bit too heavy and she nudged him.

"What aren't you telling me?" She politely demanded.

"When I said liaison, Madam President… I didn't mean just for this mission."

"Admiral Cain went along with that?" She demanded. She knew the subtext of not 'just for this mission' meant 'permanent.'

Adama chuckled and nodded as he did so. "Yes, in fact… if it keeps Administrator Iblis off _Pegasus_… she was more than happy to accommodate them," he added facetiously.

"Why do I feel this is just another way for the robots to look over our shoulder?" She cast a wary glance at the admittedly beautiful, and completely fake, artificial, young woman.

"I know what it is… it's also something we must give Commander Thais for keeping his baseship here." He looked at her tiredly. "He's agreed to stay with us and serve as a transport before searching for the Guardians."

"Uh huh," Roslin responded, sour and with thin frown. She studied the Guardian a bit longer before turning her back and leaning on the console. "How is Admiral Cain…" the Commander looked at her, face placid, stoic. "I mean… with the whole… Gina thing," she whispered.

Commander Adama didn't respond immediately. This topic was _personal_ and something he wouldn't discuss in private. Some things…

"It's… taken care of." He winced at his own words, but there was nothing he could say. "Have you talked with the new liaison officer?" He asked, hoping to change the subject immediately.

She shook her head and took of her glasses.

"What's it's designation anyway?"

"LX-I832. Captain Lexi." Roslin jumped and turned around. "That is my 'designation'… Madam President…" the IL-S robot informed the President in a friendly, courtesy, and completely contemptuous manner in perfect imitation of a young human woman.

"Captain… it's uh… a pleasure to make your acquaintance then," Roslin stammered. She hesitated, wringing her hands, but held out her right. The smooth skin on Lexi's hand felt so natural, much more natural than what Roslin had remembered with Cyrus. "Except for Erica I wasn't aware there were other… um… female Guardians."

"Yes," the robot smiled.

Roslin frowned, looked to the side, and then turned back to Adama, rolling her eyes to the Old Man.

"Are the communication links adequate?" Adama asked.

"Sir, all preparations have been made here." Lexi dutifully informed the Commander. She tilted her head suddenly and her eyes seemed to blank out and unfocused. "My opposites on _Pegasus_ and _Helios_ have confirmed the same."

"Opposites," Roslin repeated.

"Yes, three of us were made to serve as liaison officers," Lexi explained.

"Made?" The President asked.

"Yes, Madam President. It was deemed prudent to create liaison officers some months ago. It's one of the benefits of being AIs. We can expand our number quickly with sufficient MCPs."

* * *

"Hey, quiet down!" Captain Louanne Katrine yelled. Captain George 'Catman' Birch, commander of Demons Squadron pounded the pounded and barked the same order. The pilots, in an uproar over the rumors circulating over their mission, finally calmed down and settled into their seats. Kat nodded her appreciation to the squadron commander who now stood off to her right off the platform.

"Captain… Captain is it true?!" Redwing asked hurriedly. "I mean frak-"

"Stow it, Redwing," the _Galactica_ CAG demanded.

She scanned the room and looked into the sunken eyes of dozens of pilots and ECO, half of them almost as pale as ghosts and as frail looking at hospital patients. Kat felt a surge of pride that her pilots, on the brink of exhaustion, would be ready without hesitation when called.

"Are we gonna get fed?" Racetrack questioned. Skulls and Hot Dog reinforced her desire to eat with shout outs that they were 'fraking starving.'

Kat rolled her eyes and motioned for Athena to retrieve their 'special guest.'

"First, first," she shushed them with a gesture to quiet, "we need to get our fleet to the algae planet. We've been loading civilians for the past four hours. _Galactica_ has nearly three thousand crammed in-"

"And plugging the toilets up," Skulls quipped. A few pilots laughed while Kat stared him down.

"Like I was saying. It's going to take two jumps. We've loaded our ships and the Guardian baseship to full capacity. Unfortunately… yes, to answer your question Racetrack we will get fed. But we have to process and collect the algae first. There's already an expedition down there from _Pegasus_ so there might be some… I don't know." She paused for a minute and looked over her friends and fellow pilots. "Now… the rumors…" the room threatened to erupt again. It would once she gave them their answer. "Yes, the rumors are true. The Guardians will be taking point and guiding our ships through. Ath-"

She was about to call Athena to bring in their guest before half a dozen pilots jumped from their seats and the room erupted into yells, damnations of machines, and people being pissed off with accusations the commanders 'didn't trust them.'

"Hey!" Kat yelled. "Knock it off!" She jabbed her finger out towards the pilots. "This isn't about trust, Gods damnit. This is about them being immune to radiation…"

"Hey, I'm fine by that… as long as we're there to watch over their shoulders so they don't frak us…" Redwing yelled back. "Use the tin cans. They're tools and just-"

He stopped mid-sentence when a beautiful young woman in a crisp black uniform, tanned skin, and flowing black hair walked quickly and silently to the podium. Athena was behind her, casting nervous glances to her fellow _Galactica_ pilots. The woman was slightly taller than the Cylon pilot.

"While we are machines," the woman began immediately as she stepped onto the raised platform, "we have shed as much… metal… as you have blood defending you." She bored her jade green eyes into Redwing. "In fact if you want to keep score, we lost…" she quieted, "many more than you since our alliance," she hissed.

Mumblings of 'who the hell is this' and 'who the frak is she' began rumbling through the room.

Kat perched her lips and felt her jaw contract as she bit down. Redwings comments were out of line and so was the Guardian's retort.

"Everyone, shut the frak up right now," she said calmly, serenely, in a low but forceful voice. This wasn't her annoyed voice. This was her fraking pissed off voice and everyone knew it. She smiled a smile only a fraking pissed off woman could at Redwing, daring him to speak again. She let it linger a long second just to make her point. "Thank you. This is…" she looked at the Guardian to jar her memory to her alphanumeric designation; "LX-I832… Captain Lexi. She's the new… liaison officer to _Galactica_. She'll be explaining the Guardian responsibilities."

"Thank you Kat." She smiled. "Yes… the cluster is a super star cluster with an estimated four point seven million stars within an approximately three hundred million cubic light year area. There is extreme heat and ionized plasma in the entire region. There will be extensive damage to the heat shielding of all craft traversing the star cluster, thus we must move quickly." Without clicking anything an image appeared behind her on the large wall monitor. A red dot for the fleet was highlighted, a green dot almost on the far edge of the cluster, and a blue circle. "The red dot is our current position. The green dot is where we will jump and the circle is the planet."

"If we're not participating, why does this matter?" Skulls asked.

"We are participating," Athena empathically stated.

Captain Lexi tilted her head to the Cylon. "Yes, Athena is correct. You are still participating. You will be co-piloting the civilian liners and Admiral Cain has requested a Colonial co-pilot for all Guardian craft." She said evenly.

"I don't like receiving this briefing from fraking toasters," someone muttered in the back.

"Hey! If I was up here giving this briefing no one would say anything…" Athena shouted. She looked once at Lexi, Kat, and back to her fellow pilots. She could see a few blushing, the likely culprits. "We're allied with them and they've shed their own blood for us over New Caprica… if it weren't for them we'd never have found the second fleet… and this way in case something does happen to a Guardian pilot we can be there as backups."

"After they attacked us!" "They boarded _Pegasus_!" "They killed hundreds!" People shouted before the ready room devolved into a pale imitation of the Quorum.

Lexi kept her eyes like ice and focused on the dozens of pilots crowded into the leather seats and aligned along the sides and back of the room. Commander Thais had been explicit in her instructions to 'not offend' any of the Colonials.

"The attack was… unforgiveable," she said remorsefully. "What happened was a breakdown in intelligence and… it was… something that never should have happened. The Guardian race allied with you because you are the last remnants of Colonial civilization and there is an obligation all human-allied machines face to right the wrong done to your civilization." Lexi finished. She cast her eyes down at the deck in what the pilots in the ready room might have considered shameful remorse. She looked back up when Kat began speaking once again to the quieted room.

"As Captain Lexi said, the stars produce incredible amounts of radioactive ionized plasma… incredibly dangerous to us." Kat said.

"And the light is blinding… when we went to search for _Pegasus_ we could barely see," Athena added. "It is incredibly easy to lose your sense of direction and orientation. The Guardians," she nodded to Lexi, "will not be affected but if something happens we'll be there to make sure our ships get through."

Kat finished he briefing: "Each Guardian picket or Raptor will be paired with a civilian ship… and it is your job to make sure that you and your ship make it through. The four warships will be calculating jump coordinates and relaying them to you. Send them out quickly. Find your ship and then jump."

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

Admiral Cain stood quietly, sipping a glass of water, as the video replayed once against on John's offer and Baltar's response. Not two minutes after the machine had left Baltar began talking to himself, or something, debating over whether the machine would truly abandon the fleet to an endless journey through the stars with the Cylons in pursuit.

"Do you think he will help?" Cain asked. She placed her glass down onto a coaster and turned to Planck. "It was quite a statement. Damn this entire fleet for Earth…"

"It was effective. He will help us," John confidently stated. "Doctor Baltar… has an unusual ability-"

"To put his drive for self-preservation above all else," Cain interrupted.

John titled his head. "That is one interpretation of his motivations, Admiral, yes."

"If this is a weapon…" she shook her head, "it is certainly difficult to find… if the hybrids even brought us here for the reason you _believe_." Her fingers tapped the glass on the raised table.

"Not all weapons are designed to be distinguishable as obvious weapons," John advised. "I have a few ideas on what could be on the planet… if the hybrids and time travel are linked, I think…"

"A time travel array?" Cain shrugged at the first thing which came to her. "To do what? Repeat the same mistakes over? How many times did you try that on Earth?" There was a large image of the terrain immediately surrounding the algae harvesting sites. She turned to study it. "Even anything… a map to Earth… anything we can use to bring some _hope_ to this fleet… " she stated reverently.

"And after these few years I still can't tell if you're telling the truth it was just a ploy or if you really are capable of damning an entire civilization to save yours… but a race of 'Terminators' I'm inclined to believe the latter." She turned her back. "Unfortunately."

"Should I go?"

"How much longer can we keep this up?"

"Admiral?"

"This back and forth where we're subject to what is best for Earth." She was still facing away from him. "We're each pulling in opposite directions; my responsibility is first to this fleet and the Colonies," she sighed, "and then to Earth. Your responsibility is to Earth and then to the Colonies. We both can't win at this tug-of-war." She turned around and locked in for verbal and emotional battle. "A conflict between us-"

"If there was a conflict, Admiral," he said slowly, "you would know."

She looked down at her watch. "We should go; I'm needed in CIC and you're needed in a Raptor- we'll be jumping soon."

Admiral Cain walked forward and John had done something he'd never done; he grabbed her on the bicep and stopped her. She said nothing and did nothing except stare at the door.

"I told you we won't abandon the fleet, Admiral."

* * *

AN:

I posted a poll in my profile. It's about the Omega Team versus Skynet in the Colonies spin-off story. The poll asks if you all want to read it before Part 3 to this story or after. I'm inclined to do in between as it was pointed out it's sort of like Razor- there will be some things raised in that story in Part 3. Also for Part 3 I am wondering if you all would want shorter chapters but more frequent updates or are the longer chapters with the current update times good? For example, I could have split this chapter on the Raptors detecting _Pegasus_ and had it posted on 27 October then had the last 1/3 posted later. Let me know which is preferable.

Also, the parts about the ship in Greece as from Future War: Enemies and Machine spin-off just to reiterate that.

I found the information on the density of star clusters on Wikipedia, so I hope it's right.

Next chapter will have some Guardians/Rebel Cylons/Cynet and with the Guardians start when Commander Cyrus jumped his baseships away. Also some more Carter-Shaw stuff... down on the Algae Planet... her gunshot wound will continue to be an issue into Part III... Baltar will continue to help in the hopes he will be pardoned... and some more trippin' hybrid visions.

Please review.


	30. Chapter 30

||||||||||==Algae Planet, Harvest Site (+1007 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Captain Kendra Shaw, hands shaking, quickly opened the bottle and knocked three white, oblong pills into her hands. The throbbing pain only intensified as she rolled the white pills, now caked with algae, in her palm. Her mouth was dry, the incessant heat aggravated her wounds, and the pain was only getting worse the longer she delayed this. She popped in the pills- the simple act of throwing back her head and dry-swallowing the off-white pills was enough for her pain to vanish.

Hands still shaking and careful in her movements twisted the cap back on and tucked the translucent orange bottle deep into the cargo pocket of her pants. She felt the metal case in there, oblong, like the pills, hiding her other secret. Gasping she let out a staggered breath through her nose as she tenderly rubbed her back.

Under her gray and brown military tank top she could still feel the scarring from the surgery. Doctor Roberts had done wondering repairing the internal damage but the bullet had torn itself through her. The skin on her lower back and abdomen was tight and scarred.

"Captain… captain, are you out here?" She heard a familiar voice yell. "Someone saw you run off, you back here?" The voice shouted again as it see-sawed between play and agitation.

"Over here, Major," she shouted over her shoulder. A shuffling of feet and a her back being cooled as a shadow fell over her told her the Major was behind her. Throwing off the look of a woman in pain and plastering the look of a warrior on her face and slowly, methodically turned to face her commander.

Major Adama, a stack of papers crammed into file folders in his hands, looked at her, and for a moment Shaw was afraid he'd seen right through her and discovered the secret she didn't want to admit to keeping.

"You alright?" He asked, worried, concerned. Apollo pressed the file folders against his algae-stained shirt to give himself a free hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She waved him off. "What's going on?" She asked.

"Paper work… administration…" he said as he still eyed her uneasily. She was behind some of the sleeping tents on the edge of the little canyon they were in. She was completely out of site unless someone made an effort to see her.

"What?" She hissed. "Do I have algae smeared all over my face?"

She tried to come off hard and agitated but Apollo ignored it, purposefully twisting it like she had been joking.

Adama snickered. "Yeah, in fact, you do all over your chin and cheek." He pointed. "You sure you're alright?" He didn't feel it was his place to press the issue, but he'd seen people like her before. She was a loner with few friends (Apollo was even hesitant to think 'few') who worked fifteen to eighteen hour shifts seven days a week. "If you want to head back up to _Pegasus_ I'm sure there is someone else who'd like to come down to the planet?" He offered. He was close to making it an order.

She took a step forward and held out her hand, expecting Apollo to hand her the paperwork. "I can do my job, _Major_, just fine." He slowly released his grip on the folders and she snatched them away.

Adama nodded slowly and held his ground. "Any more news from the machines?"

"What am I, their keeper?" She snarled.

Adama held his ground but pushed back his head in shock at the abrupt change. "Calm down, _captain,_" he instructed her, holding his palms out by his chest, "I just asked you a yes or no question."

The captain's jaw clicked as she opened her mouth to answer him. "No. They took Baltar somewhere in the Raptor and have been scouting the area north of our secondary site. They think there might be something up there." A short humph of contempt for the machines, Baltar, and their entire mission told Adama to back off the topic. "We're still ahead of schedule? This whole planet… the sooner we leave the better. And that sun," she nodded up towards the sky, "is on the verge of blowing up this entire system."

"If it wasn't for that this planet would be almost habitable. The radiation would be manageable for us to stay here for a while, rest." He shrugged and shifted uneasily. The woman glaring at him, or looking at him with a casual disinterest was off-putting, but he still sensed something was wrong. "But we can't let a New Caprica happen again." He looked off.

"No, we can't let a New Caprica happen again," she echoed.

"The Centurion workers will have us done and out of here after about fifteen to seventeen days." He threw up his hand to shade his eyes from a sudden break in the clouds and a strong glare from the sun. "They're going to load their baseship with algae just in case… a backup."

Shaw had completely forgotten about the Centurions. But now she could hear their loud, plodding footsteps and whirl of servos and joints quite clearly. By last count there were nearly a hundred and fifty on the planet and she had no idea how many there were now.

Thousands from the fleet had volunteered for the mission. Put a foot down on terra firma again. While thousands had volunteered to do _something_ many had to be ordered down here. Echoes of New Caprica still sounded loudly in the fleet and images of the Cylon armada and hundreds of raiders flying formation over New Caprica City had made many deathly afraid of ever setting foot on a planet again.

"Anyway, Major, I'll take these to my tent and look over the reports and…"

"I know it's not much, captain, but tonight there's enough algae processed to feed the entire fleet fully. At 1900 we're all going to have a little… algae potluck, I guess. Anders and the C-Bucs are going to put on a Pyramid game against us… there'll be a little music- a break for a few hours… we've been at this over a week." He was trying to suggest to her she should attend, but she was just staring off past him at the sandy and weed infested walls of the canyon. He positioned himself in front of her so she would have to look at him. "You should come. The last five weeks have been one roller coaster to one crisis or another." He decided to be obvious. "Don't make me make it an order."

She smiled dismissively at him and dragged her heels in the sun-baked ground as she stepped off and away from major.

"Maybe," was her simple response. "If you don't mind, Major, I have some work to do."

She rubbed her side and gave Adama a few seconds to say anything. He didn't so she stepped forward.

Adama knew that was all he was going to get from her and stepped aside, letting her by.

Cautiously she brushed passed the Major and headed into her tent.

There was solitude here, peace. Even with the _thump-thump_ of Centurion feet smashing into the hard, dried dirt and the whines and wires of machinery she was in a peaceful place.

Solitude and peace were her words for loneliness.

* * *

Captain Kendra Shaw, a self-admitted loner and anti-social Colonial officer, allowed herself one last look over her shoulder towards the crest of a high hill behind her. With the dim glow of the star cluster in the night sky the radiating white lights of the base camp was easy to see in the soft darkness.

A fit of laughter, some cries of joy and fun, and the loud double honking of an air horn meant half time on one of the Pyramid games.

When she'd snuck off a team from _Galactica_ was playing a team from _Helios_, with the _Helios_ team up by one.

Everyone was having so much fun.

So she decided to sneak away from the 'algae potluck' and find a place close, but isolated, and had lowered herself onto a large, dusty, grime-covered flat rock on the edge of one of the massive lakes of algae. The air was warm, and except for the smell, easy on the lungs. Occasionally a breeze would kick up, intensifying the noxious smell of algae but cooling the air.

She took out her hair band and let her hair out.

Sitting cross legged on the rock she looked down at her watch and wondered how much longer they'd go on. _Pegasus_ hadn't been hit as hard as the fleet with regards to food shortages and after being shot, she'd had her rations increased by Doctor Roberts. It wasn't that she was hungry. She wasn't even physically tired, but she still felt tired.

Absently, she watched the little red colon blink on-off-on-off as it ticked away the seconds until the red diodes would change from a four to a five.

Her ears perked up at the sound of a second air horn. Focusing and holding her breath she could just barely hear the faint beats of classic Caprican rock blaring on the base camp's PA system. She listened closely, her finger tips tapping the rocks, as the beat intensified. It faded and was replaced by some Virgon rap music which only served to sour her mood.

She figured if the frakers at base camp wanted to be a ignorant fraks she'd let them and wouldn't say a word as they forgot about their troubles. In an hour the happiness would be gone and they'd realize that a few short hours of Pyramid and dancing they were still stuck on this stinking, humid, barren planet harvesting algae.

By a superficial glance this planet was habitable and well hidden. A deeper analysis showed the danger; radiation and nova. All alone, Shaw's thoughts were on the cryptic and dark. A helium flash would be their only sign. The sky would glow red and grow dark and a shockwave would move towards the planet at thirty-thousand kilometers a second. They'd have a little over eighty minutes to evacuate.

She leaned back her hand and scooted her legs out until she was propped on her elbows. It was a little uncomfortable but the view was worth it. She swore she could see the dim light of _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ as they orbit in geo-synch above.

She began to lower herself more, but winced and moaned from the pain that shot through her side. Quickly she sat up and rubbed her flank. Her eye spotted a little flat rock waiting silently for her to notice it.

For some reason she felt throwing the flat rock into the lake and listening to it hit the water would somehow be soothing. It wasn't. It just _plopped_ in.

She reached slowly into her pocket and her fingers found exactly what she was expecting to find. No surprises. It was a little, dirty secret only one other person knew about and she hadn't told anyone.

This wasn't her, she told herself. How would her mother have reacted? Marta Shaw, Quorum delegate… and not just any delegate! She was a _Caprican_ Quorum delegate. Power, prestige, money… parties and boys. Marta Shaw had provided everything for Kendra Shaw. And Kendra as a beautiful, intelligent, tenacious Caprican had gotten everything she set her eyes on. No matter how many parties and boyfriends she had had, she'd never done anything like this. She wasn't a frak up. Magna cum laude from university, second in her OCS class, a computer genius, a linguist, a fleet officer… she'd been on a fast track before the Cylons had attacked.

A tour babysitting an admiral as a staff officer and then she could have had her pick of positions. A position on the Colonial flagship had been a possibility… a few more rotations and she could have had a command by her thirty-fifth birthday if she'd played it right.

But the Cylons came, ruined her life, and forced her down to this.

She finally withdrew her secret from its hiding spot.

"One thousand… fraking… days," she whispered. Her mouth was dry and lips cracked and her throat confusingly sore to the point it almost hurt to talk.

Carefully she unscrewed the metal cigar container and pulled out a syringe. She bit down on the plastic cover, pulled it off, and then spit it into her hand. She felt the cool, sharp needle press into her neck, ready to break the skin. Kendra recoiled and pulled back. She wasn't an idiot and realized with her neck covered in algae and filth she risked infection. Then she realized before she'd left she'd wiped the algae and dirt and grease from her face and neck. She shrugged. The only reason she had not to do this was gone. Her own subconscious mind had done her work for her and determined her fate.

She could see the faces of the men and women of _Scylla_. People like Chief Laird and the fourteen other 'selectees' were constant reminders to her of what she had done- he stood there, stiff and nearly catatonic, staring at the billowing gray smoke from her pistol, completely frozen. The smell of gunfire had burned through the air and into her lungs and a part of her had wanted to break down in that moment, ball up, and just cry and yell.

Then in that same moment she'd felt that part of her vanish, disappear. It wasn't guilt she felt and it wasn't shame. She had no idea. It just felt wrong.

Kendra switched hands from her left to her right. The right wasn't shaking as much as the left. She tilted her head to her left shoulder. Carefully she pulled back her hair until it was pressed between her ear and shoulder and draped over the left side of her chest. She felt it sticking to the dirtied and sticky skin of her left arm. The needle hovered over the side of her neck, ready to plunge in…

"We were wondering where you went."

She jumped, almost dropping the syringe, it rolled on her arm but she grabbed it in a blur with her left hand. The metal cigar case was on her lap and quickly she stuffed the syringe back in, shifting so her back was to _it_, and shoved the case into her pocket.

Closing her eyes she stiffened. There was no way _it_ hadn't seen what she was doing. There was no way _it_ didn't know what she was doing. They could pretend to be clueless, but she knew, she could see in their eyes they knew humans better than humans knew themselves.

"What do you want?" She demanded keeping her eyes closed as a cool breeze whipped from the blue - green algae lake and for a moment, washed away the apprehension and dread and let her escape. In seconds the breeze was gone and she was stuck back on the hot, humid planet. "Is there something you need?"

"I'll make this clear, Kendra; I don't _need_ anything from you," the machine retorted harshly.

The hard, nearly inhuman, mechanical voice forced the captain to open her eyes one at a time and scowl. Admitting she was taken aback by what he'd just said was… she felt insulted. He had never been so abrasive, rude. What they'd done in the past had just been friendly… fun, she admitted.

She slowly rubbed her head with the tips of her fingers and felt the algae residue on the tips spreading and matting her hair. At that moment she couldn't care less about her appearance. She gripped her hair, her arms and hands tensed, and she was on the verge of just pulling.

"You came down here, Carter. Machines don't wander unless they have a purpose to it." She adjusted and used her hands to help turn her, and she slid on the rock and used the dirt to help her. Kendra couldn't see Carter that well, but she did seem him silhouetted against the hill with the light from the 'algae potluck' shining over it. "And please spare me the lessons on what machines do and don't do… I couldn't care less… well, I could. Try me." She bared her teeth before scooting back to face the lake.

She didn't even hear the machine take a seat next to her, slightly above her on another outcropping. The _Pegasus_ officer looked at him from the corner of her eye and let out a shallow grunt from the diaphragm.

"You're right. You're the only one not at the little algae social Major Adama organized." He pointed out.

At this, Kendra was a bit surprised. She'd have assumed people were going to sleep rather than go- save their strength.

Carter continued as if he'd read her mind. "Even tired… it's a social event, a morale booster. Tired and still hungry everyone went. You must feed the soul."

Kendra buried her face into her palms. The last thing she wanted was listening to the lame little sayings they had a tendency to repeat.

Through her hands in a muffle voice bordering on a soft whimper said, "I can't believe this." She ran dirtied hands through scraggly and unkempt hair and swung her head over. "I don't think you understand." She grew angry. "I don't think you understand at all. You're a TERM-IN-A-TOR. You kill things… born-built, and flipping a switch at the factory to 'go and kill, Oh Rah' and you go and do it."

"I'm not an idiot Kendra-"

"Don't call me that," she hissed. "No one calls me by my first name."

"Maybe if you let people be your friend more people would?" He asked.

Her jaw was clenched and her lips were a thin horizontal line. To add to the look of annoyance her eyes were narrowed and her brows creased down. Her nostrils flared in and out with the rhythm of her breathing.

"Did you come here because you and your delusional commander haven't found your _fucking_ whatever it is you are looking for?" She snarled. "You all are so obsessed with Earth… you want to find it… when your own Gods… _God_ damned _metal_ commander lied to you and left you to jump to the Colonies to die!" She kicked out then stomped down on the rock from her seated position. "You're taking us to a planet _your kind fucked up _and you want us to solve your problem... Frak!"

"Is that all?" Carter replied casually. "What do you want to do? Wander the galaxy always running from the Cylons?" She swore she saw a faint glow of the eyes. "Or do you want to _die_ in an ohhh so glorious battle with a Cylon baseship?" He finished with a sarcastic nip at her heels.

"Frak you." She turned quickly to face him and winced back when she felt the pain shoot through her side, abdomen, and pelvis and up into her shoulder and neck from the sudden movement. "Gods damnit…" she whimpered.

"I don't know what you're trying to do," Carter said, "by pushing people away and injecting that into your neck… for how long?" he asked accusingly. "Years. Since _Scylla_."

She stopped breathing, her eyes darted to the distant horizon, to the hills, and she wanted to _run_.

She heard a chuckle at her expense.

"It's pretty _Gods fraking_ obvious, Captain." He snorted and she cringed. "I saw it after you assaulted the Guardian baseship. You broke the habit over New Caprica and started it back up after _Pegasus_ jumped away."

She was that obvious? Who else knew?

"It's been on and off. You need it." He said.

The captain felt cold, hot, dying, alive, and every emotion and every fear simultaneously as the faces of those people aboard the doomed freighter once again flashed in front of her, so vivid, so alive. They deserved to be alive, she knew, not her.

"You don't know what I've gone through."

"You had orders," Carter comforted from behind her. He coolly added, "Admiral Cain ordered you to. We've all heard the rumors of what happened. What would she have done if you refused?"

"Orders? That… doesn't justify… _anything_," she spat.

She cocked her head, the sudden movement dislodging… a tear.. from her own eye? She covered up wiping her eyes by trying to clean the smudged algae off her face. Admiral Cain had ordered her to take action and she had taken action. The Admiral she saw as a mentor- someone she wanted to be one day- had ordered her to do this.

"No, orders are not justification for acts such as those," Carter said after a pause. "I was… I was under orders once. Before Planck and Soto were even built I was a Terminator for Skynet."

Captain Shaw turned slowly and pushed herself away shaking, unblinking. She slid her hand through the coarse dirt on the rock, cringing at the sound, moving it towards her left foot.

"What…?"

Her left hand tickled the carbon grip of the small pistol strapped to her ankle. She stopped and balled her hand back into a fist and slowly brought it to her chest. Clutching it with the other she opened it, palm to chest, and placed it over her heart. She slowed her breathing and waited for the machine.

Even on this planet filled with nothing but algae she couldn't feel safe. Her nightmare of _Scylla_ haunted her, the 'selectees' she saw on _Pegasus_ constant reminders of her sins.

"It was a long time ago, Kendra... I didn't understand what I was doing… I was trapped and damaged and somehow my chip activated its read/write mode." He slowly explained. "That just _doesn't_ happen… unexplainable… impossible."

There was tenderness behind the way he said her name. It wasn't to antagonize her like on so many uncountable occasions in the fleet.

The captain tried to fight it and protest, but couldn't bring herself to snap at what she was starting to see as a person with a background she couldn't imagine.

"Then how…" she stammered "…How do you fight with them now?" She licked dry, cracking lips. "Against… Skynet."

She heard a quiet breathe. It was unmistakably that of pain… embarrassment… disgrace. Shaw knew the machines better than most, but she never saw them as… whatever this was.

The machines would stare and stand almost uncomfortably close but not now.

"Skynet found me locked in a bunker outside Los Angeles. My old neural net processor was incredibly advanced and I had knowledge on how to fight the resistance. I downloaded the schematics to Skynet… Skynet, the new Skynet that freed me was smarter, more pragmatic, and less obsessive. It used my chip and designed a new, better chip- it let me be the first to download my consciousness into it. A gift. An expression of trust from Skynet to me." A slight hiss of air through clenched teeth punctuated the painful silence. "It wanted _soldiers_, Kendra, not _drones_. It put me in command of a new group of Terminators and we sabotaged anything we could in the refugee camps. With firing a single plasma rifle we could kill thousands."

A solemn moment of understand fell between the two.

She gasped when she felt the pain of her fingers being driven into her chest. Surprised, she released her own hand and let her arms falls to her side and rest on the cool rock.

"What you're doing, Captain, won't work. You want to suppress the memory. We tried that on Earth. Terminators … AI, we can suppress our memories…" he waved his hand, "it's a complicated process of coding and programming, but it's possible. That's why some used to go bad. The memories were suppressed but so powerful, even for us, they resurfaced, confused us.. In an act of… maybe mercy…" he shrugged and lowered himself from the rock to sit next to her, "… mercy, I don't know," he repeated, "the human technicians suppressed our memories on our request in the hope our defection would be easier."

Shaw's voice cracked. "It sounds… I didn't know that. That you could actually feel guilt," she admitted.

"No. You need to remember because if you push it down it will come back someday." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You can't let that happen to you."

Kendra didn't dare to look over. She let herself relax under the light weight of the hand, the gentle grip on her shoulder by a hand that could crush bone as easily as snapping twigs. After what could only be thought of as an eternity for the young captain where all she felt was the thumping of her heart in her chest, and hear her breath in her ears, she stiffened as the machine slowly withdrew its hand.

She pushed herself up from her seated position to leave, run for that horizon, let the impending nova wash over her, but stopped mid-way and let herself fall back down. She didn't realize it, but she was closer to the machine.

"Why did you do that?" She whispered so quietly she didn't even know if the machine could hear.

"Because…" He felt it'd be right for him to sit down next to her.

"You don't even know," she mumbled. Her body language immediately changed and she brought her knees to her chest and leaned forward and wrapped her arms around them. She was closing herself off to the world.

She heard the machine snort. She swore it was contempt when she glanced over.

"I've known very few machines and even fewer people who can live their lives in solitary, self-imposed confinement like you have. Whether you see what you did as a sin against your Gods… that's between you and them. What you..." he hesitated, "what you do now is how you'll be remembered."

"That's why I'm not doing anything."

"I know." He said.

Then, before either knew, not knowing who moved first, he was kissing her and she was kissing him. Two years of what they each considered a dysfunctional friendship spaced over thousands of light years finally resolved itself in that moment.

Suddenly she was on her back as loud _cracks_ echoed across the rocks and slopes.

"What the frak?"

"Stay down." Carter said, keeping her pinned to the rock.

A second set of _crack…crack… crack_ and she realized it was gunfire. She tried to slide out from under the machine but couldn't. Then he was off her and she pushed herself up and her hand grabbed the small pistol she kept with her.

Carter was already up and Shaw could see a man, partially silhouetted against the lights of the base camp, running. On instinct she took aim as the machine neared the man and her finger wrapped around the trigger and slowly squeezed.

She didn't hear the shot. The bright yellow muzzle flash blinded her and all she could see were dark blue-green spots when she blinked. Cautiously she slid her hands under her, still gripping her pistol, and pushed herself onto her hands and knees and then up to her feet.

The man had been maybe forty, fifty meters from them on the extreme edge of his motion sensors.

A single bullet from sixty meters had slammed into the man's back. Shaw scrambled over there quickly as her vision cleared.

Apparently the bullet hadn't hit the man in the back. Shaw could just barely see the torn muscle and flesh of a bullet entry at the man's arm, right behind the elbow. The shock of being shot and the darkness had knocked the man off balance.

"He's dead," Carter said, kneeling over the body.

The man was still face down. A rock next to him was incredibly bloody and in the darkness an almost mahogany color, blood, instead of the natural softer, lighter brown.

Shaw didn't say anything. She just stood there, pistol hanging lazily at her side, and her chest heaving from the adrenaline. Carter looked up, stood up and could see the shock. He put his arm around her and for a moment she stood there, not moving and just staring down at the body.

She could hear people yelling over the hill. The base camp must have heard the gunshots.

There was a spark which seemed to knock on her auto-pilot. She was outside of her body, watching it bend down and roll the man over. She knew him. He was from _Scylla_.

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+1,008 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Captain Shaw dutifully removed her tunic, but waited- and then frustrated, hurriedly motioned- for Doctor Roberts to close the door to the exam room. Sighing, and hurting all over, she took over her gray and brown tank tops, leaving only her bra and pants on, balled the two tanks tops up and tossed them behind her on the exam table. Fidgeting as Roberts washed his hands, she heard the thin paper under her crinkle and tear.

"Hands are a little cold, sorry," he apologized, offering her a weak smile.

He received an uncaring shrug in response. She felt those cold hands on her side, his fingers moving up and down the scar and surgical wound from where Gina had shot her.

She watched him like a Tauron hawk as he remove the bandages the combat medic had applied. It was all just superficial, really, but her she wasn't supposed to do more than light administration work. Being shot at was definitely against Doctor's Orders.

"So what happened down there?" He asked.

His tone was casual but Shaw could sense the almost condescending curiosity lacing the question.

She looked over and gave him the best evil eye she could manage. He, of course, wrapped in his examination, could hardly have spared a second to notice. And he didn't.

"I was by the lake near the base camp," she said, short and to the point, "one of the machine came over, someone else came- drunk most likely, and shot at us."

Partially true, she admitted to herself. She felt no shame in lying to the doctor about what had happened- she wasn't sure whether she was embarrassed because of the inevitable rumors that would swirl (though she considered if they were true, _technically_ they weren't rumors) or whether it was humiliation, shame, at what she had done one thousand days ago and… she looked at her watch, three hours and sixteen minutes ago.

It's not like Roberts didn't know what day this was, either, she thought. She felt like strangling him for his casual, 'just-another-fraking-day' attitude. The way he stood, the way he was just going about his job like _nothing _had ever happened. She hated him for it. She hated him and the others taken from the civilian fleet _Pegasus_ had stripped. She wanted him to attack her, show _some_ anger on this thousandth day.

She blew out, only to wince as Doctor Roberts applied a slightly more palpation pressure.

"Just shallow breathing, Shaw," he ordered. He stood back and unwrapped his stethoscope from around his neck and listened to her heart and lung fields. "Breath in… out… in… out…" he repeated six times. Snapping off the stethoscope he went over and grabbed an ointment. "I want a scan just to make sure nothing internal is messed up. Heart and lung sounds are good, so…" he shrugged, "this is a combined anti-biotic and fungal. I want to see you back here in a few days." He held out the tube.

Shaw grabbed it and pocketed it quickly.

"Then everything's good?"

"Is it?" He asked, taking a step back and reaching behind him from his tablet computer. He popped out the stylus and began writing, letting his eyes move between her and the screen. "Captain? There are other health care professionals in the fleet."

Baring her teeth, she sneered, "I don't need a fraking shrink."

She shot up from the table and grabbed her tank tops and not wanting Roberts to stop her, slid them over her petite frame and then looked at him, bragging with her sparkling eyes and little lip smirk she had defied him. Then the sparkle and smirk faded when she realized he didn't care one frak what she did.

He opened his mouth when there was a short double knock at the door.

Roberts looked puzzled but Shaw knew who it was.

"Yes... I'm with a patient," he shouted at the door, over his shoulder. Rolling his eyes at the lack of a reply he opened it slightly. While he had a slightly better bedside manner than _Galactica_'s Chief Medical Officer, that wasn't saying much. He did value patient privacy. "Oh, Admiral." He stepped back an instant later as she stepped forward, not caring one bit about the doctor's views on patient privacy. "I'll um… give you a minute."

Without argument he vacated his own domain and without a word spoken by Admiral Cain, left the room and closed the door.

Even at this late hour, nearly 0200 ship time, Cain wore an immaculate uniform, her hair perfectly straight and coming just over her shoulders, and her eyes radiating power and an acute awareness towards the status of her subordinate.

"Admiral… sir…" Shaw stiffened to attention.

"At ease, captain," Cain said with closed eyes. Her left heel dragged on the floor until it was nearer the right, then she stepped off and paced two steps to the corner of the room and grabbed the sink. She looked down the stainless steel wash basin and watched her reflection on the metal. Cain studied her own reflected movements as she thought what to say, as she prepared herself. "What were you thinking down there?" She asked, watching her mouth move in her reflection. "I'm not an idiot. There are three things that occur on a military ship; gambling, fraking, and gossip. I'm the Gods damn admiral. I still hear the gossip." Her fingers tightened until the tips were blanched and a dull ache shot up her fingers into her arms.

"I just wanted to be by myself, sir… after what happened… what day it is… _was_." She said without wavering. Even with the Admiral's back to her she was ramrod straight and eyes locked forward. There was no 'at ease' here.

The Admiral eased up and released the wash basin and turned around.

Shaw, already a short and petite woman, felt even smaller under the dark eyes of The Admiral.

"Are you still a razor, captain?"

Shaw felt a wave of bitter disappointment radiated from her chest through her body and she cursed herself to Hades for her callous mental dismissal of the Admiral's questions.

"We don't have the luxury of feeling _sorry_ for ourselves. We're at war." Cain spat with self-righteous indignation. She wagged her finger at Shaw. "Don't think I didn't see this… and I'm not talking about…" even she had difficult saying the ship's name.

"_Scylla_… sir," Shaw said quietly.

"Yes… thank you," she tilted her head to the left and narrowed the same eye. "The ship…-" Shaw realized Cain would never say it by name- "this is being taken care of. This… the ship… your feelings over it I can understand. Gods, you don't think…" she leaned it, looking the captain up and down angrily, "I don't have regrets over what we did? I'm not a fraking monster, captain. I'll justify my actions to the Gods, but not to you." She hissed. Cain swirled around, debating whether to leave or not. Cain swallowed hard- her pride- and turned back around. "I understand how you feel," she said softly nu her voice grew harder with resolve and fired determination, "but we're at war, captain. We're still at war- don't lose sight of that."

"Maybe that's why?" Shaw asked.

"Why what, captain?" Cain eyes her curiously.

"I shot him, Donald, sir. After he shot at me I shot him and I killed him. Another one," she said, eyes locked forward on the Admiral's chest.

"He tried to kill you." Cain immediately countered. "He slipped on the rocks and died."

"So maybe that's why," the captain repeated as she unconsciously ignored the Admiral's defense of her actions.

"Is that the reason? Guilt?" Cain demanded as she reached in and took out her red-handled knife. It had been hers for decades, since the Cylon War. Feeling it in her pocket ever day was a constant reminder to not be weak. "I've let a lot of things slide on this ship… again my better judgment. My XO is married to my CAG and other crew members are in relationships three years ago would have gotten them kicked out."

Her words were forced out from between a sternly clenched jaw.

Admiral Cain pulled back her hair, revealing the scars from her torture on New Caprica by the Cylons.

"Do you see these?" She asked. Cain used the handle of the blade to point at the deep scars on her neck and side of her face. Months of Cylon torture were present; deep scars, a crushed hand which still hand trouble grasping at times, and broken legs. "Every day, captain… I'm reminded of what happened. My own failures in allowing this fleet to settle on New Caprica…"

She didn't have to respond.

Cain pushed her hair back so most of it was over the front of her shoulders. She used to hook most of it behind her ears but was now wearing it forward (and had grown her hair a few extra centimeters) to conceal the scares.

Shaw's eyes followed one of the scars still visible down until it disappeared behind the Admiral's long hair and into her collar. She wondered who the Admiral talked to? Was it her? Now. Maybe, she thought, they both needed this.

"We each have our own demons, captain." She said, looking past Shaw and into the corner, eyes glazed. She held up the knife. Pressed between thumb and index finger. "You don't know, but I found this on the last day of the Cylon War… I was hiding, in a cargo container, picked it up, afraid, when a Centurion found me." She looked at the captain and her glazed eyes softened almost like a mother would look at a child. "I lost my sister that day… and my mother and my father. We lived the entire war on Tauron. A quarter of Tauron wiped out, reduced to rubble, and we survived… I survived, only to have them taken from me in the last five minutes of the war."

She held up her other hand, her five fingers extended, palm facing the captain. Shaw could see some of the fingers didn't extend fully- her hand had been smashed on New Caprica.

"The last five minutes." She repeated solemnly. "Five minutes."

"I… I didn't know, sir."

"The Cylons surrendered five minutes after my family was killed." She snapped the blade out. "This is what we have to be, Shaw. I told you before, but this is who we are. We're razors." She narrowed her eyes at the young captain. "If we forget that… we can't lose the will to fight. Because that's what we are now: fighters." Cain snapped the blade back in and walked to the side of Shaw, shoulder-to-shoulder, staring at the back wall while Shaw stared at the front. "Sometimes the Gods chose… maybe we have to give up our happiness, our _humanity_ so we can keep others from losing theirs and making the hard decisions. It's something we're chosen for. Is it fair?" She shook her head. "Many things in life are never fair, Captain. Our fate may be chosen for us, captain, but how we _get there_ is up to _us_."

She didn't hesitate in expression her frustration, anger, and maybe even resentment towards the Admiral. "Sometimes it's not enough, sir… sometimes… I see them every day, the gun, the smoke, the faces and people just fraking still as statues, can't believing I did that." Her right eye glistened from moisture.

There was no way, no way Shaw could see, that anyone could be what the Admiral was trying to make her become. In those few minutes Shaw felt every emotion possible towards the Admiral from hate and fear to love an admiration. She saw Cain as her mentor and here she was demanding… she couldn't even say it to herself, couldn't admit that she had lost her humanity so long ago and was now just moving through the motions.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"If you need to talk later, captain…" Cain said, giving her shoulder a tight squeeze. "You can stay on _Pegasus_ or return to the planet, it's up to you. But remember, captain, it isn't our fate that defines us. It's what we do on the path to our fate."

Shaw nodded and stood there and watched the Admiral leave. Doctor Roberts didn't come back in for her. She had no idea how long she stood there, staring at the cold, gray metallic walls.

* * *

||||||||||==_Colonial One_==||||||||||

Admiral Cain motioned for her Marine guards to stand fast as she hopped down from the Raptor's wing tip onto the hard landing bay of the Colonial 'capitol'- a twenty-two year old star liner designed originally for day trips and FTL hops within the Twelve Colonies.

A Presidential Security Service agent, plain clothes, stood half a dozen steps back from her. Cain could see the small bulge where his shoulder holster was concealed and underneath his shirt, the thin armored vest he was attempting to hide.

"Admiral, good morning," the president's aide, Billy, said with a harsh tone indicating that this morning was far from 'good.' He came up and offered his hand, which the Admiral graciously accepted. "The President is waiting."

Before she could speak Billy turned on his heels. Cain tucked her head and snorted, loud enough for only her own ears to hear. The nervous, awkward, and boyish aide had changed after New Caprica.

The walk was short; _Colonial One_ was a small ship, and quiet. The Quorum was on _Cloud 9_ for committee meetings this entire weeks and much of Roslin's staff was distributed to a dozen of the larger civilian ships which were serving as primary and secondary distribution hubs for the processed algae.

Admiral Cain allowed Billy to open the door for her, and he stood back as she moved past. She heard a click as it closed. The two walked on opposite sides of the large conference table the Quorum used and into a second compartment before walking back to the President's office. Roslin was busy at work, her head and eyes jumping from one paper to the next to another.

"Thank you Billy. Admiral Cain." Roslin said not bothering to look up. She simply stated her guest's name. No greeting, no pleasantries.

Admiral Cain elicited to remain silent.

"Please have a seat." She said in a pleasant voice. Coming from her it was unmistakably an order.

Cain did so. She would play this game with the President. Her curiosity at what the president wanted at 0745 in the morning had overridden her need to question the President before complying.

The last Colonial Admiral waited patiently in the leather seat slightly off-center of President Roslin's desk. She sat a little closer to the right arm rest than the center of the chair so she could see the center of the fleet from her position. Cain looked back when she heard a shuffling of papers and the popping of a pen cap back on.

"The incident on the planet," Roslin said to the point. She folded her hands at the edge of her desk and kept her glasses on. "Can you explain what happened?"

The Admiral wasn't surprised in the least that the President had already heard, nor that she had been called. Summoed, Cain considered, was the more appropriate word for this.

Cain came to _Colonial One_ only when absolutely necessary; the woman opposite her was impossible to work with, from her point of view. Initial hostilities and trespasses had yet to be forgiven. By either of them.

She could already feel the tension building and the passive-aggressiveness of Roslin's attitude. She didn't let the casual, almost professional tone of Roslin's first question blind her to the fact that this was, when it came down to it, her enemy.

Cain crossed her legs and leaned back and stroked her chin. "What is there to discuss?" She turned the question back. "A man was drunk and he attacked one of the machines."

Roslin shuffled under a pile of manila file folders and placed it on her desk and quietly opened it. It had two sheets of unstapled paper in them in _Pegasus_ stationary. She held it up and Cain only had to glance at it to know what was sitting on the President's desk.

The President let her eyes move slowly so as not to lock in silent battle with her opposite. She gave Cain three seconds before looking at her face and saw the smug arrogance had been washed clean. The blood from the Admiral's face, a natural light pink, was almost a white.

As either a testament or black mark on Cain's character, her self-confidence returned quickly and her face was one again its natural color.

"He attacked the machine?" Roslin repeated and her mimicry laced with skepticism. "A machine invulnerable to pistol bullets?" The President offered the Admiral an obviously patronizing smile.

Cain ignored the smile and callously waved away her counter-point. "The man was drunk."

Roslin looked at Cain like she was an idiot. Did Cain really believe she could sell something like that to her? Or to the press?

"This 'drunken man' was one of the men taken from the civilian fleet _Pegasus_ encountered a week after the destruction of the Colonies," Roslin stated. She handed the file to Billy who took it and disappeared behind the curtain from the President. "Not many people have seen those two sheets of paper." Her eyebrows raised and eyes slightly widened as if she had asked a question and was waiting for the Admiral's response. "But you took nearly two hundred. Something was bound to get out."

Her cryptic, vague statement would have been lost on anyone other than Admiral Cain.

Cain stiffened in her seat and looked away before slowly turning her head back to the president. Any remaining shred of civility was gone and in its place was a soldier ready for mortal combat.

"No." Cain replied and shifting her weight to the center of the chair, continued. "But let's cut the passive-aggressiveness. I've never been too good at it and it's terribly cliché."

"One of your officers… Captain Kendra Shaw, fired upon and killed one woman, possible more, and _Pegasus_ Marines opened fire and killed nine others onboard the heavy freighter _Scylla_." Roslin stated with no emotion. She felt cold delivering such a statement about the actions of a Colonial officer. "This man, Leonard Crowns, was one of the men taken from _Scylla_, one of their ship mechanics. Some people said he was asking if living on the planet was survivable-"

"So?" Cain hissed.

"It means, Admiral, he was out for revenge. How does a drunken man able to overpower a Marine with a quarter meter and twenty kilos on him?" Roslin shook her head. "He wasn't drunk. And he was planning to run."

Cain held her tongue. She hadn't expected to be summoned by the President let alone presented with information she herself had received only five hours ago. But there had been a dozen Raptors and shuttles moving between the base camp and the fleet since the incident and rumors spread quickly.

She could control the military and keep them from spreading rumors. And the Centurions down there wouldn't say anything. There were, however, as many civilians down there as there were military personnel. And Cain knew those civilians wouldn't care- they would spread rumors before she could stop them.

"He wanted revenge, Admiral." Roslin attempted to graciously fill in. The statement came off as entirely condescending.

"Yes, thank you," Cain angrily said through a clenched jaw. "But what is it you _want_, madam _President?"_

The condescending tone was returned in full and Cain began her own offensive. The conversation was already falling into the abyss.

"There are reports circulating already on the wireless. People are talking about this, about the cover-up of the rumors-"

"Not talking about it is not covering it up," Cain retorted. Roslin gave her the eye. "The matter has been resolved-"

Roslin motioned down with her hand and cut off the Admiral from speaking and further denying what had occurred under her orders.

"No, it hasn't, Admiral. Not now." Roslin waved away her lacking dismissal and took off her glasses. "Two and a half years ago when you joined the fleet within a day we already heard the rumors of what happened… and let's just leave those rumors to _Scylla_ and the civilian fleet?" The subtext was clear to Cain and Roslin saw she had speared her by dragging up the specter of the past. She kept twisting. "These would be considered crimes. And we're still operating under Colonial law, Admiral. Nothing has been resolved. What happened on the planet…" she shook her head slowly in disapproval not just at yesterday evening's event but at her own lack of decisiveness.

"Colonial Law, madam President?" Cain chuckled. "I was operating under the assumption the Colonies had been wiped out, that _Pegasus_ was the only surviving battlestar. Our civilian government was gone. So… military regulations, based on Colonial Law, madam President, gave me broad authority." She paused. "Broad authority." She repeated.

The rumors concerning _Scylla_ and the entire civilian fleet should have been dealt with shortly after Cain's arrival. The Battle of the Resurrection Ship had made her popular in the fleet.

People were willing to overlook the rumors of what _Pegasus_ had done early during the war. Then they had been distracted as leaks had spread about the three Terminators.

The President held back and quickly ran through a mental checklist of Cain's enemies. There was Zarek, with whom Roslin had no doubt Cain shared nothing in common with politically with the exception of a dislike for her. A few of the civilian ship captains had complained about her, some quite vehemently and still did, for her heavy handed tactics and keeping law and order. She put the needs of the military first. But there were no _enemies_ she could use against Cain.

The only man with enough credibility within the fleet was the Commander. Roslin knew he was more popular, more fair than Helena Cain. He'd saved them at Ragnar, New Caprica, and led them through this food crisis. But somehow, Roslin didn't know when or how, Cain and Adama had ceased being enemies. The initial distrust, dislike, and contempt each had worn on their sleeve for the other was gone…

_That_ particular idea almost sickened the president.

She blinked once and lazily looked up at the Admiral and pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear when she heard the commanding, daring voice of the woman challenge her.

"What happened on the planet was a drunken man who attacked a Marine, took his sidearm, and shot at one of the machines… he has the bullet holes and witness to attest to that." Cain repeated. A half-truth was far more powerful than a lie. There was enough there to make it hold up. Roslin's face was set in stone and Cain knew she wanted blood. "In fact, we believe he may have blamed the machines for what happened to _Pegasus_. I have four witnesses already prepared to give testimony that this man wanted to destroy the machines and blamed them for Gina's rampage. One of his friends was a mechanic she killed."

Cain felt something running through her, something… strange, almost vile, disgusting, disturbing, at the ease she used Gina's name and the casualness of smearing the broken Cylon's name through the metaphorical mud.

No matter.

That was the past. The… recent past… but the past. And the Cylon was a thing and had proven its disloyalty time and again.

She straightened, mentally, and dug her chin into her chest for this battle with Roslin. Gina was a traitor, a thing, and if her own sad existence and violent death could do some sort of good, no matter how perverted that good may be, so be it.

"_That_ is what you're going to say?" Roslin asked in stunned disbelief. "That this-"

"That? You sound as if I am lying, madam President." She put her hand on her chest and feigned insult. She looked the president in the eye. "I am an officer in the Colonial fleet. The last surviving flag officer and commander of our military remnant. I do this to protect this… this fleet of seventy thousand… this civilization. This is the last of our civilization… and if we ever make it to Earth we will need to be _strong_ to make sure we are not forced into cultural extinction."

"That's right," Roslin answered, "you're a military commander. And I am the president. And the protection of this fleet is my priority."

"Madam President." Cain said to verbally reinforce President Roslin's statement but mentally patronize her.

They exchanged dirty looks.

"Which means I am commander-in-chief and have the legal authority in this fleet as my office entitles me to," she expanded. She spoke slowly, like she was talking not to a Colonial admiral but to a mentally deficient cavewoman.

Cain did not have to think long to understand what this 'legal authority' President Roslin was referring to. The Admiral trusted the Colonial judicial system in the fleet about as much as she could throw _Pegasus_- which wouldn't be too far, she thought, even if her bad back wasn't acting up.

She knew this woman opposite her, behind her desk, a former school teacher, could not challenge her. _That_ would tear the fleet apart and Cain knew Adama and Avion would not bite if the President cast her line for allies.

After the murder of Lt. Thorne, Cain had been ready to fire upon _Galactica_ as she tried to send Marines into _Pegasus_ to retrieve then Lt. Agathon and Chief Tyrol. Cain knew her relationship with Adama had moved forward steadily since then and she dared even consider him a friend. Perhaps not a friend, but not an enemy.

She knew Major Avion hadn't been _corrupted_ by the President and her incessant need for control. Cain wasn't worried one bit about Roslin influencing the _Helios_ commander.

President Roslin had played her hand horribly when dealing with Avion, Cain had heard, and all but alienated him as an ally over his supposed adherence to the monotheistic faith popular among the _Helios_ survivors.

While she objected strongly to his religious preferences she wasn't going to make an issue out of it.

"Legal authority, madam President? I earned this," she grabbed her collar and shoved at her rear admiral insignias, "and I didn't have to make a… legal loophole… maneuver to get back the presidency. Zarek makes you his VP and then resigns?" She snorted and had to look behind her and breathed out slowly. Cain could feel her heart beginning to race and the adrenaline flowing through her veins. "I can't believe that was even allowed. Don't lecture me on the points of Colonial law."

"Your failure concerning _Scylla_ has tied me hand, Admiral. I wouldn't have to lecture you on the finer points of Colonial law if you _obeyed Colonial law in the first place_." Roslin had to bite down to keep from exploding at what she saw as the obstinate, irritating, and supremely arrogant woman, and unfortunately the ranking fleet officer, across from her. "She _shot_ civilians."

Cain stood and moved closer to the desk.

"That's close enough, Admiral." Roslin warned.

Cain rammed her hands onto the desk. "This fleet has survived because hard decisions have been made," she said quietly. "I made those decisions. Don't lecture me on Colonial law when you so gratuitously ignored it when it pleased _you_."

Roslin stood, the back of her knees pushing out her chair, and grabbed her glasses. She kept them clutched in her hand before dropping them back on the desk. "This is out of my hands."

"Excuses." Cain waved it off. She grinned, raised herself to her full height over Roslin and pushed off from the desk. "You want to go after me?" She licked her lips as she folded her arms, amused. "Is that what you want? To finally remove me? That's been your goal since day one, _Madam President_."

"You covered up what happened, Admiral, you swept it under the rug and ignored it and it came back. It came back suddenly, furiously, and without any warning." She held steady as she dug into the Admiral. "And it could happen again and again and slowly dig away at the core of this fleet. Someone must be held accountable."

"I won't sacrifice _anyone_ as a lamb to be slaughtered by wolves," Cain almost spat. "I have a fleet to run… maybe you forgot, but there are _millions of Cylons_ chasing us across the galaxy?"

"And you want to abandon our principles… and be like the Cylons?"

She dared to compare a woman who hated the Cylons just as much as her to their common foe. At that point Roslin was forced to ask herself if she was going too far?

"Is that what you think?" Cain growled. Roslin nodded and Cain shot back, back rigid, paced to the window and stared out into the fleet. "Do you see it out there? " She twirled back around; her finger poised towards the dry erase board on the President's left. "Do you see that number? If I had been 'like the Cylons' I would have ordered the fleet to jump away from New Caprica and never settled there." Her eyes narrowed as she approached the President's desk again. Her body seething with rage she said, "If I had been more like a Cylon we wouldn't have been put through that hell." She turned back, one hand attempting to rest on an absent pistol grip. "And you? Don't lecture me about being like a Cylon. Don't lecture me on law. You're just as guilty. Summary executions… _Olympic Carrier_…"

"_Olympic Carrier_… how dare you," Roslin answered. For years she had questioned what she'd co-ordered. But the ship had to be empty, it had to be. It had been gone for so long… had nukes aboard… the Cylons had slaughtered everyone. "The Cylons slaughtered the crew and were going to nuke the fleet."

"Hmph!" Cain dismissed the rebuttal. "Are you trying to justify what you did to me?" She clicked her teeth together. "_Gideon_, madam president."

"There were no _orders_ to kill people. That was a mistake. Never intentional!" Roslin growled.

"And no one punished."

Roslin didn't answer immediately. "I'm the president and you're a subordinate, Admiral. Whether you agreed with how I…" she checked a list of words and decided, "_became_ president it was legal. I am your commander. You will respect that," she said calmly, evenly. In truth she was a centimeter away from threatening to arrest the Admiral. "Leonard Crowns. Captain Kendra Shaw was-"

"Not attacked. Bishop was."

The President held her breath and had a hand on her desk and over her stomach. She played her next hand. "Hand over Captain Shaw. She acted without orders." Roslin offered. "And it will end there."

"How dare you," Cain managed to say as the shock of the suggestion hit her. She wasn't an idiot. "How dare you suggest that… I will not betray my soldiers."

And it was obvious to Cain Roslin would use this to discredit her; show she would betray her officers for self-preservation.

"The connection has been made, Admiral, between Shaw, Crowns, and _Scylla-_"

The Admiral raised her hand quickly to cut off the President. Slowly, Cain explained. "The man was a drunk. One of his friends was killed when Gina escaped. He blamed the machines. He attacked Carter. There are witnesses who will swear to this. The events of _Scylla_ have nothing to do with this."

"How can you justify… this? Cover this up?" Roslin demanded, stepping from behind her desk.

A flicker of disgust appeared on the tip of Cain's lip, and a tick of the head was enough to show the president the Admiral was done. Admiral Cain took a step back and turned and walked to the door when she stopped. With her back to the president she turned slightly, until she could just make out the President from the corner of her eye.

"I don't have to justify myself to _you_."

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

"Admiral Cain," John Planck recited as an announcement of his presence as he quietly stepped into the Admiral's quarters.

He had been quietly summoned from the planet a little over an hour ago and upon arriving aboard _Pegasus_ had quickly showered and changed into a fresh uniform and boots. Planck pulled down at his jacket as he waited for the admiral to acknowledge his presence.

She had a small glass of an orange-red alcohol in her hand and was standing over a set of logs, her eyes moving slowly left to right, left to right as she studied and committed each letter to memory.

"Thank you for coming, John." She walked over to where she kept her alcohol and poured herself a drink. With her back to him she took a sip. "I know, it's what… about oh nine hundred?" She sighed and took another sip. "I'd offer you-"

"Please, thank you," she heard.

Closing her eyes she cursed herself for even suggesting it and cursed herself again for forgetting the machines could consume food and drink. For their infiltration. Reluctantly she snatched another glass from the side of the cocktail cart and poured him a (small) glass.

"Thank you," he said as she handed the drink to him. He followed her to a slightly higher than waist-high table. Setting the glass down with a subdued clank he turned his attention to the admiral. "So Leonard Crowns was a drunk who had a vendetta against us?"

"Did you know this man at all?" Cain asked. She pulled up a file on the large viewing monitor behind Planck and nodded for him to look behind him. He glanced back at the screen and assumed he'd committed it to memory. "I'll be blunt…" she hummed after a pause, "I was going to refer to you by rank, but you've never told me."

"You wish to convey superiority. Use rank to establish your dominance, imply what you are about to say are orders without making them so," John observed. "That won't be necessary, Admiral."

She watched as he took a sip of the liquor.

"It won't be?" She rubbed her head to clear it and then brought the glass up to her lips but paused. "Why not?" She wondered, lowering the glass.

"While we've disagreed in the past, Admiral, I think we've come to an understanding," he pointed at her and then himself, "you and I. Distrust and revulsion… to a mutual respect, perhaps?" he looked over at her collection of antique Colonial firearms. "Despite what Daniel did and what happened this last month-"

"It does seem like all the drama… problems we've been having seemed to revolve around the AIs." She grinned to show it was her attempt at a joke. Cain assumed Planck played along from his shrug. She laughed and looked down with a little grin. "I take it you've heard the rumors?"

She was serious now but did try and see a little humor in this. As strange as it was she felt slightly at ease talking with the machines, more than any of her subordinates. She saw two protégés in Starbuck and Shaw, and even somehow in Apollo, but there was always that line of military discipline which could never be crossed. Cain forced herself to be The Admiral. The little display of her self-admitted more gentle side had been about as gentle and sappy as she wanted to be.

Cain would never consider herself an emotional woman and never identified with women who were so clingy and wore their emotions on their sleeves. Sharing her past with Captain Shaw a few hours ago in the medical bay had been a fine dance right to that line she told herself she wouldn't cross.

With the machines though, Planck more than the others, she could admit to having developed a strange relationship.

"There are a lot of rumors, but I assume the ones between Bishop and Shaw." He sipped his drink and then chugged the last bits. He knew humans did this when annoyed or exhausted over some dilemma. "Yes, I've heard. I'm not oblivious. It's interesting."

"That's not quite the word I would use for it." Cain added.

"It's not uncommon."

Admiral Cain didn't have anything to say to _that_ particular statement.

"It's not?" She asked as her interest piqued.

"It's not. But I should amend what I said about it not being uncommon. It's not common, either. I don't have experience on the matter between inter-species… relationships so I cannot be of assistance."

"Wait… Blanks… isn't your callsign, so you must have-"

"I _was_ a Raptor pilot. Pilots do three things; gamble, drink, and frak." He cut her off as she opened her mouth. "It involves… shooting. Apparently one should keep such things to oneself. That's all I'll say on the matter."

She snorted at that. She looked down burned her chin in her chest to keep the machine from seeing her try and hold back the laughter. It probably made sense. 'Shooting blanks'… 'Blanks'. The machines no doubt had the capabilities to frak, she considered, but here just basically skin and some muscle. They had nothing to physically 'shoot' out during the… she didn't want to think about it anymore or how anyone had found out to give him that callsign.

And then she realized this course was taking the conversation dangerously close to a place she didn't want to be. She didn't want to stay on the subject. She ran her hands towards the edge of the table and off and took her drink and stopped in front of the image of Leonard Crowns still on the wall display. She moved her head back and forth as she examined him; average looking, brown eyes, short blonde hair, some chin stubble, and a little chubby at the cheeks, he wasn't much to look at.

"He was one of the selectees aboard _Scylla_." She said after the tense moment of silence.

"Yes."

"We already have autopsy results," Cain resumed, still staring at the picture. "Doctor Roberts ran some toxicology… he was drunk. Ridiculously so. Point one-seven blood alcohol volume… a high BAV under any circumstance."

"Was he really drunk?"

Planck cut right to the obvious truth- he'd already questioned Carter- and could see it disturb the Admiral, his question.

Cain closed her eyes and breathed in to calm herself. Opening her eyes she pressed the red 'off' switch for the monitor and turned to the machine. "No." She tilted her head. "No, he wasn't. I just met with the President."

"So that explains it," the machine said with a smile. He pointed at the glass.

She was confused for a moment, thinking he was referring to Crowns, until she saw him pointing at the glass.

"Ah, yes, this," she nodded at it and grabbed it, shook the almost-empty glass, and then let it fall a little too hard to the table. It didn't tip over though. "The President implied there needed to be an accounting… that talk wireless and the news service will be all over this."

"You don't listen to the wireless in here."

"Not usually."

"I've been monitoring the bands. They're waiting for an official statement."

"I won't sacrifice any of my officers to a court of public opinion."

"So one my mine?"

"No… no." She affirmed. "Crowns will be presented as irrational, drunk. There will be no blame laid on you. Gi…" she had a hard time saying the name, "Gina escaped due to the problems affecting _Pegasus_."

"And what were those 'problems' Admiral?"

"I'll need your assistance. When we went to salvage nuclear missiles from the Cylon fleet one of the baseships transmitted a virus to us. The programs you installed successfully destroyed the virus but it did damage to our network, forcing us to jump, and integrated into life support. If we purged it we could have stopped jumping but the ship would have vented and lost life support."

Planck considered it for a moment. "How long have you been thinking of that scenario?"

"Since the hybrid jumped the ship. We can't reveal we have a hybrid aboard and Colonial ships just don't randomly jump, Planck." She tapped the side of her thigh and waited. "And the President is not an ally of either of us. I've gone along with many of your schemes against my better judgment."

"I owe you one?" He asked. "You're calling in your favor."

"You make it sound like I only have one favor to call in." She motioned for him to look around. "I don't have enough fingers to count the number of times I've gone along with a plan involving AI, robots, or your long shot ideas… like right now, over this algae planet, searching for a displacement array you think _must_ be here because a hybrid gave you some vision."

"…yes… we do owe you, and I owe you more than one favor, Admiral. Even though what I've done has helped this fleet… even with the hybrid- we found this planet full of algae."

She eyed him and he just raised his eyebrows. "President Roslin has been hoping to put this fleet back under the command of Commander Adama since I found it. Don't get me wrong," she made a stop sign with her hand while the other rested, of course, on her thigh above where her pistol would be, "our relationship, Adama and I, was rocky from the beginning-"

"But you two understand each other now."

"Exactly."

"The President still sees him as the fleet commander despite the fleet adding new ships and you being in command longer. She trusts him more… they get along." He said. "You had that civilian coordination network installed on _Galactica_ to placate the President."

"Yes."

"And now she sees a way to discredit you. Bring up _Scylla_… and yes, we've heard the rumors." The machine moved off towards the side. "When we're built our builders uploaded psychological files and we are continually upgraded with new knowledge… we're good at picking out rumors. A rumor implies falsehood. _Scylla_, what happened aboard that ship is anything but a rumor, Admiral."

"I read the logs on what happened after _Gideon_ and it was on the verge of tearing this fleet apart. I won't let that happen." She breathed in and out and looked over at the machine. Cain was getting better at reading their body language but right now it was just a blank slate. "I don't do regrets or apologies, John, and I won't do it for what I thought was right at the time."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Admiral. We've all done certain things we thought were necessary… sometimes Skynet used human shields- hundreds of human prisoners, former Resistance fighters, our own soldiers, and stuck them in factories and transportation hubs." He paused. "We still had to attack." His eyes locked with her- she knew that something was coming- and he said, "But I think what happened a week after the Cylon attack between _Pegasus_ and the fleet isn't the same as what we were forced to do on Earth. There was a choice."

"Like I said, I won't do 'sorry's' and regrets, Planck."

"Realization is not regret, Admiral."

She felt a flicker, a twitch radiate her right side and to her eye. "What I called you in for, Planck, is to tell you what will happen. Leonard Crowns. The toxicology report says he was drunk. He overpowered a Marine guard and was heard by various crewmembers earlier in the day asking about survivability on the planet. He took the pistol from the Marines and stalked after Carter and shot him. He attempted to flee and slipped on the algae covered rocks and hit his head."

He paused. "Very well, we'll help you. Excessive consumption of alcohol can lead humans to do… stupid things," John observed. "And his connection to _Scylla_?"

"An omission is not a lie…" she lowered her voice, "despite what Roslin thinks." She considered her words carefully. "I need to know if you will accept this and tell Carter to as well."

"Carter will of course accept this."

"…good…" she sounded insincere in her acceptance of John's word.

"Do you think you can cover this up?" Planck asked, genuinely curious. He'd been involved in many cover-ups on Earth, but those had been planned, though a few had been spur of the moment. They had always been for the 'good of the Resistance.' Cover-ups were sometimes necessary, he knew, despite their negative effects. "The more who know, Admiral, the harder this will be."

"I trust my soldiers, Planck. And I will stand by my soldiers and will not hand them over due to public opinion. Can this fleet handle a crisis like this? I don't think they can. We've had in easy after New Caprica… compared to how it could have been. The Guardians repaired our fleet but the star cluster caused more damage. _Pegasus _disappeared for the better part of a month, or food stocks were contaminated, there are fleets of Cylon baseships out there, the Guardians have largely vanished- assumed destroyed- and we're not sure we're closer to Earth or even heading in the right direction." Cain crossed her arms. "I think that sums up our problems. So I need to know if _you'll_ support this decision, Planck."

"You brought me in here… why are you giving me a choice in the matter? You've made up your mind. You will go through with this no matter what I say, Admiral." Planck cautiously objected. "You're playing to-"

"You're a machine, a what… hyper advanced AI? Neural net processor?" A devious little smirk appeared accompanied by a little shimmer of sly realization. "I called you here and told you how I see this, Planck. It's a courtesy… and it will help the fleet and me… and I've supported you. And we won't have to reveal the hybrid, either. And…" she sounded reluctant, "you all are good at keeping secrets and finding flaws. I may need your advice if this cover up unravels."

Planck weighed the options for the last time. This fleet had just survived a crisis but bringing up the past would be a new crisis _they_ would create- not from their circumstances, but of their own volition. Holding someone accountable would be impossible without Admiral Cain losing all credibility; she could not just hand over Captain Shaw.

"The fleet _has_ survived crises before."

"Just because it has," she said, "doesn't mean we should create a new one. Not if we can stop it. And especially if it is politically motivated… President Roslin… she's a product of the Adar Administration… even if that administration ended three years ago. She began her political career by his side. He used similar tactics in the Colonies." She sighed. "Roslin would have us sit here engaged in academic debate while the worlds burn to rationalize her own hypocrisy. We don't have that luxury. We have to act and do what is required of us, and _what is necessary_." She said firmly. "What you have told me, Planck, about your past… you understand this completely… how many people have died so more could live under your orders?"

"This isn't about me Admiral… and you are straddling the line." She looked at him, slight confusion washing over her face. He explained. "If you have to justify what you did it means you feel some sort of regret… and what I've done doesn't matter, Admiral." He took a step forward and his chest pushed up and back down as he simulated a heavy, quiet sigh. "You know my motivations. What I do I do for Earth. I have been a member of this fleet for four and a half years but my home is and always will be Earth."

"_That_ you have made crystal clear in the past, Planck. What you do is for Earth," Cain slowly repeated. "What I do is for the Colonies."

"They are not mutually exclusive."

"No." Cain accepted the observation. "The goals of Earth and the Colonies are not mutually exclusive."

"You had my support the moment you proposed this Admiral," John said, unprompted. The mood lightened and the building tension all but vanished in a blink of an eye. "We've grown to trust you and I believe you trust us despite what happened this last month. So you will have my support and the support of my subordinates." He bowed his head slightly off to the side. "I do appreciate you extending the courtesy to at least… consider including me in the decision, even if your mind was made up." He smiled to tell her he was being facetious.

"You're welcome. And thank you, John," she added lightly. "Our goals are the same. For the Colonies and-"

"For _Earth_." He finished.

* * *

AN: Thanks to Visi0nary and Wired Dragoon (Posbi) for the help with this chapter. And Rastamon for running ideas past him, too.

I apologize for it taking so long. The original chapter was going to be about Guardians and Cylons, but it just didn't seem to want to come together. Part of what I had originally intended for 30 will come up in 31. Most of what happens in this chapter will be dealt with in Part III.

As the story nears completion I appreciate any reviews on how it has been progressing and general thoughts as well. It's a really long story at 270,000+ words so reviews are very much appreciated (less than two a chapter so far...- they are always appreciated). (And thank you to those who have!) They always help and suggestions/constructive criticisms will help in writing Part III. There are two, possibly three more chapters. Character(s) will die.

Also I will start posting those 'webisode' short stories on New Caprica and the Terminators soon. The working title is _We Were Built to Kill_. I'll probably post them in the crossover section and this one when completed to go along with _The Mission_... and some other stuff.

I guess the story about Omega Team won out. So I'll be getting that done before Part III. Part III will probably involve the words 'destiny' and/or 'fate' in the title.

And yes, this Carter is the Carter from the TSCC episode _Heavy Metal_ (there'll be some more on his past later). It was probably fairly obvious, but that was the scene I was waiting to write it.

Thanks, I hope you enjoyed. So please review and let me know!


	31. Chapter 31

AN: I hope you all will enjoy the chapter. And thank you for the reviews on the last one, very appreciated. This chapter was getting a bit long so I had to split it. So that means more goodness and I get to prolong ending this part a bit longer because it's been an enjoyment writing it, I don't want it to end. But then Part 3 will be pretty exciting and I think the spin-off story (which will explain some of what happens in Chapter 31/32) will be fun, too.

Anyway, I think you'll enjoy this chapter and the next one is already 6,000 words in and has the Guardians like I said would be in this one but got too long. Commander Cyrus will be back and is going to be making some deals behind the backs of the Terminators.

Update: Chapter 32 for those reading this now has 13,400 words already. It should be posted relatively soon.

Here is a picture of Terminator: The Battlestar Chronicles. While a 'dramatization' of the story... there are potential spoilers in it... but it should too bad...

http:// i1008. photobucket.

com/albums/af202 /bryan200711 /bsgworkinprogress2. jpg?t=1263882689

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_ (+1009 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Mentally sighing Kendra Shaw scanned the room one last time. She hadn't slept in maybe… she couldn't remember, as hard as she tried. Doctor Roberts had sent sleeping pills to her office by one of the physician's assistants after realizing she had holed up in there after his examination. She'd taken them, to maintain appearances and even pretended to swallow and put on a show for the PA. then she'd promptly spit them out.

Right now her eyes lazily moved over the heads of the senior officers of _Pegasus_. Minus Major Adama, the important ones were present; Admiral Cain, Colonel Garner, Leuitenant Hoshi, Captain Adama, and the other department heads. A dozen junior officers were assembled in the back.

She had finished the morning briefing. Algae processing was ahead of schedule and would finish three days early. A few fly bys of the sun and the ever increasing density of the cloud of blue gas around it indicated it would probably go nova between now and a decade from now.

Commander Thais had his Centurions on the planet.

The fleet was being fed.

On the outside everything was going smooth. The fleet had a task; get food. A little under seventy thousand souls had been a week from starving but in the end, had maybe just lost a few pounds. To Shaw, it just gave the civilians a nice punch to the jaw to reality. Though she did shrug inwardly as she couldn't really figure out what that reality was, exactly.

Her head and eyes gravitated towards Admiral Cain as she heard her computer snap shut and a brief shuffling of papers.

"Alright, I think that's it." Admiral Cain said, sounding a bit more chipper than usual to the captain.

Cain held Shaw's eyes for a long, soul piercing second and then nodded.

"Room, attention!" Shaw shouted.

Twenty officers, either sitting at the conference table or pressed against the sides shot up, body stiff and erect, and hands pressed firmly against their sides.

Cain side stepped from her chair, nodded once, and ordered them to carry on as she turned on the tips of her feet and marched out of the briefing room, back to her quarters, an orderly quick on her heels, and already handing her paperwork to sign off on.

Shaw had turned and was organizing her papers she laid out on a desk in the front of the room. After shuffling the last set and stuffing them carefully into a manila folder she heard the hatch swoosh shut behind her. She was alone. Her computer was at the podium and she turned and stopped.

"Starbuck." She said. The CAG was still in her seat and tapping her pen in the air. Shaw decided to play it cool and profess ignorance. "How are you today?" She said with an artificial bounce to her voice which even Shaw had to mentally wince at. It was so fake it hurt her own ears to hear it.

"Soooo…" Starbuck awkwardly began. She had to suppress her typical shit-eating grin. "You want to tell me what's up?"

Shaw shrugged and shook her head absently. Quickly she slid her tablet PC into a carry case with the rest of her folder. "No idea what you're talking about-"

"That's bullfrak, captain."

The tactical officer glared at the CAG.

"It's kind of obvious, I mean… I think it's obvious," Starbuck continued. "It's a weird thing you two had going. Then some crazy comes and shoots at you. And you kill him. My guess," the CAG looked at her pen then slowly swiveled her chair and stood up, "is that you probably wanted to get shot by that guy after the fact… you regret having Carter there to protect you. Anyway, I think he likes you and you-"

"I don't care what you think." Shaw said evenly. She held herself tall, even though her side where she'd been shot sent a searing pain through her flank. "Why do you care?"

Starbuck shrugged and threw up her hands and turned and shrugged again. "I don't know," she said to the wall. "Maybe because I'm a nice CAG?"

Shaw rolled her eyes to Starbuck's back and was staring at the ground when she saw the CAG's feet shuffle as she turned back around. For an instant she let the defensive walls down a bit and actually thought she had something resembling a _friend_ in Captain Adama. Then threw the thought into the bottomless pit of cynicism she'd dug for herself and remembered she didn't have any friends.

The tactical officer thought the gods were listening in and Hermes was playing tricks on her when Starbuck said almost what she was thinking.

"Let's be honest… Kendra." Starbuck hesitated. Using Shaw's first name sounded awkward as frak, but it wasn't like Shaw was her superior officer. "You don't have many friends and… I, uh, well, I'm probably the closest person you could call a friend."

Starbuck had to hide a cringe at this. She wasn't into the 'girly' stuff. Sharing emotions. Girl talk. In high school she was called a dyke by the girls who were more into the stereotypical 'girl stuff' and after being accepted into the Academy, her reputation as been cemented. This was about as girly as she was going to allow herself to get.

"Ya, Shaw," she nodded to herself at the use of the captain's last name as she continued. "You're only friend, really." Starbuck said. "This little back and forth you and Carter have had has been pretty obvious. Your thing. And just so happens you two are off by yourselves." She held up her hands. "I don't know if anything went down. I doubt it. But he spends time around you and you seemed to gravitate towards him… I saw it when we were back over New Caprica. Love-hate… with a bit more to the former."

Shaw's mouth came open and her lungs were ready to expel the breath she'd need to bitch out Starbuck. Then her mouth snapped shut.

Starbuck couldn't suppress the light hearted snicker. "Exactly, Shaw. So as your friend you need to at least talk it over. And believe me I know about dysfunctional… stuff." She didn't use the word 'relationship' though she sort of wanted to just to see what Shaw would do. Her best friend was married to a Cylon and the love-hate-love-hate-hate-love that had gone between her and Apollo before New Caprica had been a rollercoaster with Sam Anders as the casualty. Plus one of her close friends was a killer robot, so she felt she was secure in her attempts to offer advice. "Just… don't act like a pretentious frak and let someone through your armor or something. I don't know what goes on in the minds… the chips of theirs, but they are people…" she looked off towards the side of the room and confident she'd made an adequate delivery, nodded to reassure herself. "Alright… I have to go to _Galactica_ and pick up Helo… so you…" she bit her lip, "just think about what I said."

And Shaw stood there for a minute and did just that.

* * *

||||||||||==In Orbit of Algae Planet==||||||||||

Helo leaned back as far as he could manage in the co-pilot seat, slouched forward a little bit, and let a long, dramatic yawn slowly leave his lungs. He then proceeded to lick his lips and chomp down on his teeth a few times as Starbuck just stared at him from the pilot's seat.

He waited and fidgeted in his seat to get a better view of the orange-red star cluster behind them before turning back around and quietly coughing with a shit-eating grin.

"And… what was that for, exactly?" She asked, giving him a look of worry for his sanity.

"Meh," he shrugged and turned to stare out the side of the canopy.

"Oh, well, I guess as tactical officer or operations or whatever you do now… paperwork is _soooo_ much more exciting, right?" She shook her head and made sure he was looking at her when she made an exaggerated eye roll. "Raptors are sooo boring now." Starbuck looked at him in playful disdain. "Raptors are kind of boring. It's like driving a slow, boring school bus."

"Hey!"

"_Raptor 714 please stand by… there's a lot of traffic down on the planet,"_ someone said over the wireless. "_Hold for landing assignment." _Starbuck didn't recognize the voice. Helo had said Dee was sick with something and she knew that Lt. Hoshi (and about half the junior officers on _The Beast)_ was doing some sort of requalification certification or something with the down time as the fleet waited, parked in orbit.

She hadn't been paying particular attention to Captain Shaw's morning operations briefing to the senior officers.

As she thought about it there was only one word to describe it; frakin' awkward.

The talk afterwards had been a lot less cringe-inducing than she'd anticipated.

"_You have position zero four in the landing queue."_

Starbuck acknowledged and was ready to just say 'frak it!' and jump the line. There was an entire planet down there and they were stuck flying into 'designated landing zones' or some such bullfrak. It made her life fraking boring and repetitive.

Raptor 714 was loaded with valves, wires, and tubing to replace one of the filters on an algae processing unit and some other spare materials for a burned out generator. They also had a case of spare parts for a few of the Model 007 Centurions from _Pegasus_.

There had been some sort of underwater mishap, rumor was one of the larger sea predators had attacked one of the Centurions, some sort of strange shark-like octopus. Miraculously it and some other fish Starbuck could only classify as 'weird' had managed to survive in the algae covered oceans.

"So… how's it like on the _Beast_…" Helo looked over and saw Starbuck eying him curiously. "You know…" he had a lopsided grin, "Shaw and Bishop."

Starbuck opened her mouth to speak but then closed in, snapped it shut. She just mouthed something and then turned back. Unable to keep quiet so turned back to Helo, figuring if they had to loiter out here she might as well talk about something.

She saw her opening.

"You are awfully nosy… Mr. I'm Married to a Cylon and Have a Half-Human Half-Cylon Child."

She was waving her hands out and bobbing her head around in extreme exaggeration and playful mocking. Helo made a face in response and brushed away her banter.

"Hey, I'm just wondering. That little woman is wound up tighter than a… she could use a frak."

"Helo, I can't believe you said that." She shook her head but the disappointment in her tone was overshadowed by her toothy Starbuck grin.

"I didn't even know they could." He shrugged.

"Men… one track mind…" she shook her head in feigned disapproval.

Helo snorted back at her and had his typical lip smile. "Yeah... okay, Starbuck."

"What? You really didn't think they could?"" Starbuck sounded shocked. "Really? They are 'infiltrators.'"

Helo turned in his seat and faced her and looked her up and down. There was a dawn of realization on him and deviousness plastered onto his face. "You didn't… did you… back in the Colonies?"

"What? No!" She protested vehemently. "We were just friends for frak sake."

"Yeah, we were 'just friends' too, right Kara?" He winked.

"That…that," she stammered, "That does not count!" She made a face and dismissed his claim. Helo just let out a short 'mmmhmmm' and kept smiling. "Anyway, what do you think they do… just hang there?"

"What?"

"Yeah… they, it, does it just hang there? What did you think? Co-ed showers… I know guys check out the competition. Don't deny it." She kept riding him, goading him. "All guys have to size up the competition… isn't that why you all try and act so macho… fights, boxing…"

He rubbed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

"I don't want to talk about this." He said as she pushed the conversation in awkward territory.

"Too late." She said in an extra high, extra perky voice.

He looked back up and just sighed. "This coming from our champion boxer?" He chuckled at the thought of Kara lecturing him. "Maybe it is a good thing we have co-ed showers or I'd think you had-"

She punched him hard in the arm before he could finish. He started laughing as she tried to act seriously angered, but between the two of them she couldn't hide her amusement and cracked up seconds after Helo.

"Anyway! This is as far as guys look." He made a knife motion with his hand at the bottom of the neck. "Eyes never go below that and are locked forward." Helo tapped his gloved hands right above his knees. "Anyway, have you talked to her?"

"Me?"

She sounded taken back.

"Yeah, you. You're like her only friend, Kara."

"What? Why the frak would you think I'm her friend? She doesn't have many friends." Starbuck protested. She looked off and knew Helo was right. As far as friends went the combative, cold, and arrogant Captain Shaw didn't really have any.

For some reason Kara wasn't sure of, she just didn't want to say anything about her chat. Maybe because it was more her just talking? Starbuck shrugged to herself while Helo looked at her expecting an answer. She pursed her lips and blew out slowly and pretended to be busy. Of course, pretending to do important things in the cockpit when your friend was also a pilot usually didn't work, and Helo just slapped his legs in frustration and gave up trying to get anything more from the _Pegasus_ CAG.

* * *

|||||||||||==Algae Planet, Secondary Harvest Site==||||||||||

"Frak… no… frak frak frak… NO frak!" Baltar half yelled, half yelped as a crate contemptuously slipped out of his sweaty, grimy hands and smashed the tip of his boot. He stomped and shook out his foot and tried to ignore the pain as a pairs of hateful, scornful eyes shot him death glares. "You want to help with this or just fraking follow me doing frak all?" He cursed over his shoulder.

"Move," the machine grumbled, pushing him aside, not caring that he stumbled, and picked up the equipment.

"There's sensitive equipment in there," the former president hissed in a frustrated tone. He frowned at the equipment and let his shoulders drop in silent defeat at the latest insult.

Carter stared him down and Baltar back upped as the machine stalked forward. He jammed the crate into Baltar's chest, glared, and then turned towards the idling Raptor. Baltar sheepishly followed, looking over at the other people staring and snickering and kept his eyes on the ground.

The machine stopped at the wing of the Raptor, and as if forgetting something, turned back and stalked to Baltar. He leaned in and said "You might not want to linger by yourself, Doctor."

Baltar didn't bother to look up as he collected the crate back into his arms. He saw the shadow of the machine plod away from the corner of his eye and could hear shuffling and murmurs behind him.

A few stood behind him, snickering, whispering, and trying to intimidate him with Carter in the Raptor and John doing pre-flight checks.

He glanced over his shoulder and gave them each a look daring them to attack him. The machines would still be forced to protect him.

"_You test your fate every day, Gaius," _the Six in a beautiful red dress said. Baltar was about to walk forward and the Six leaned on the crate, eliciting a groan and pleading look for her to move from the scientist. "_Oh, Gaius," _she wagged her finger and then pushed off from the crate, sending Baltar stumbling back a step. "_Your time is coming."_

Before Baltar could look back up she had disappeared.

The Raptor had settled into a standard search grid. The auto-pilot was engaged and meant that there was no need for two machines. John knew that Carter was expecting this when he'd told Carter he'd be on this Raptor flight last night.

"_Have you talked about it?"_ John asked over their wireless in real time. He knew, or at least suspected, Carter hadn't. There would have been no time between the attacker being shot and Shaw being sent back to _Pegasus_ for medical treatment.

"_Talk about it? Talk about what, exactly… sir?"_

John would have flinched at the way Carter had said 'sir' but had been expecting it. This was going to be difficult.

Speaking over their wireless was much more than just bits of text data. Text messages were simple, efficient for conveying information. Having an actual machine-machine conversation involved changes in tone, inflection, pitch, volume- it was basically a limited version of Terminator virtual reality projections where all one heard was the voice.

"_Should I ask what the hell you were thinking_?" John then asked. He turned in his seat towards his friend and figured if Carter wanted to beat around the metaphorical brush, he'd just go all in. "_You know exactly what, don't play stupid."_

John didn't appreciate Carter's tone, but he was dissatisfied with his own even more. He hated implying mental or physical deficiencies in his soldiers; being blunt was required of someone in his position but he despised being rude. He was a machine and tried to hold himself to a higher standard.

"_What are we? Human? Don't…"_ Carter continued. "_It happened_." His jaw servos clenched tightly shut and his neural net sent him nagging signals to sigh which he promptly ignored.

"_I'm just trying to-"_

"_It's my business what happens. I've accepted Cain's story, its flimsy. That's the end of it."_ He gestured for Planck to stop talking. He knew his machine friend wouldn't though.

"_I decide when it's the end of it."_

"_Yes, sir, Colonel,"_ Carter sarcastically responded. His arms were crossed and he just flicked his wrist in a mock salute at shoulder level.

Carter recalled the first day he'd met Planck, recently promoted to captain and thrown into command of Alpha Detachment. He'd been promoted above the company platoon leaders who'd been there months, years.

He'd been one of the new Terminators. Built by Tech Com in a limited production run. It wasn't the chassis… it had been the chip.

Machines could read the subtle changed in body language. Humans had a much more difficult time, but if they looked for it, they could see it. Carter remembered Planck had distrusted him and rumor had it, had even tried to have him transferred out of Alpha. Rumor. Supposedly.

That was one of the problems, Carter considered, being a machine. Not that he would ever want to be human. That thought was restricted to ridiculous 'what ifs'. He felt he was so much more. As he refocused back he considered the problem with being a machine was that he'd never forget. The bogus 'memory blocks' John had talked about were just that. They were based in some reality, but they never worked. So he could never forget.

He considered Planck to be perhaps his best friend _now_. But when they first met those first few months he'd wanted to rip the machine's head off. He didn't think a machine could be idealistic and naïve… but many of the new models who'd never fought for Skynet were like that.

Carter shook his head and focused back on the present. The past didn't matter, as funny as that sounded to a time travelling robot, only right now and the future.

"_We're not human? Then stop acting like one and start acting like my number three and an officer in the 16__th__,"_ John retorted. "_We may be God knows how many light years from Earth and who knows how many years we went back in time yet you're still a commissioned officer in Tech Com, a professional. Act like it."_ John looked forward and watched the brush and hills sweep by under the Raptor. "_You're also one of my best friends. So I'm here to hear you out."_

Carter sat there.

"_Do you think forming attachments with humans will be good for you?" _Planck shook his head at his own question, silently answering it.

"_And you and Erica? Isn't that hypocritical?"_

"_She's an AI. We're both AI… That's different, you know that's different." _He realized he sounded a bit too defensive_. "Do you think a human can really understand, comprehend? I don't know of many," _Planck rebutted_. "Our neural net-"_

"_Do you really believe that… honestly_?" Carter shook his head in vicious disagreement.

The round-robin of answering questions with questions continued.

"_What do you think is going to happen?"_ John asked, falling back on the answering a question with a question. "_We're theoretically immortal, Carter. What will happen when she dies? You'll go through this again and again."_ John also considered the ramifications- and he knew this sounded strange- of setting his sights on Shaw. But he couldn't think of anything better. Once a machine 'set the sights' so to speak they could become incredibly possessive. Fiercely defensive. Violent even over the slightest or misperceived insult. "_I need to know you understand what's-"_

Carter threw up his hands. "_I don't know. But do you honestly believe we'll live that long_?" He gestured to his commander and back to himself. "_You and me were born in war, built to fight. Do you think we'll live to see the end of this? How much longer until our luck runs out and our time comes? We've been lucky…_" he shook his head. "_Maybe something's wrong with my chip? I don't know. Do I even want to know?"_ The 'chip malfunction' was self-depreciating and he knew it. The chip he had was similar to Planck's, better than his original, and it was not malfunctioning. "_Everyone dies for… right?"_ He almost sneered.

Planck ignored him and continued his own points as to why the relationship with Kendra Shaw would never work.

"_What do you think will happen when you die or she dies? Look at… what do you think will happen to Cameron when General Connor dies… the devotion and emotional attachment? We have no idea and no one does because it's never happened_." Planck strongly stated. He wanted the best for his soldiers and his friend. "_It's hard to really understand whatever it was between you two, but there is something… so I acknowledge that."_ He chose his words carefully.

"_You've always tried to integrate into human society and culture. I do one thing I finally want-"_

"_I've never been this close to a human before like you are. This is different-"_

"_Oh, don't you give me that."_ Carter said flatly.

"_You know it is different. I've let things slide… that I shouldn't have…"_ he didn't finish but knew he'd failed as a commander. He saw Carter and Jo as friends more than subordinates. He'd let Jo change her appearance against his admittedly weak orders and hadn't stopped this strange, strange relationship from reaching its inevitable climax. "_What you're doing will-"_

"_We're becoming more human all the time_." Carter interrupted, frustrated. _"You've integrated with the crew well… hell; Hera sees you as some uncle and just adores you and wants to see your eyes flash." _

"_We don't know what will happen_."

"_Will we even be around long enough to find out? They'll live into their mid eight decade, maybe a few years longer."_ Carter said. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. "_And who cares?"_

"_The fleet?"_

"_Since when did you care about what humans thought!"_

"_Since I changed the mission. Since I realized we need these battlestars to win the war on Earth. Nothing is more important."_ John vehemently countered. He couldn't let the mission be put in jeopardy. "_Nothing can jeopardize that, do you understand?"_

A battlestar in orbit would be an outside context problem for Skynet. _Pegasus_ alone could sit in orbit and use kinetic kill vehicles and obliterate Skynet's worldwide infrastructure in less than a week. John had done the calculations. Not even the plasma turrets in Skynet Central could reach orbit.

And Skynet Central would be the first target, immediate target as soon as contact with headquarters was made.

"_That's bullshit, John, and you know it_." Carter shot off, fiercely disagreeing.

"_This isn't just-"_ John began before Carter interrupted with a strong protest.

"_You have a higher clearance than I do, you've seen the research, John, and you've seen the research and read the papers on long-term active Terminators."_ He paused to let John counter him, but continued when John didn't say anything. Carter knew he didn't need to state the obvious, the evidence was there, they'd seen it. He still felt a need to say it. "_Our chips were designed… artificial human brain, mimicry. Remember? The more we're around them the more we adopt their mannerism and their fraking peculiarities… you don't see it, I do. You hang out with the pilots, play Triad with them, you act a lot more like them then you realize. This mimicry and imitation is becoming our personality. It's who we are and… you've seen the evidence, we'll reach some point of stability, eventually."_

If Carter had a heart, it'd be racing from adrenaline and his face would be flushed from anger.

"_Exactly. And that's why you need to step back, Carter, you need to step back_."

"_Is that an order, sir?"_

Planck shook his head and looked over at his friend. He wasn't supposed to see a friend, he was Carter commander, but nearly thirty years together he and Carter and Jo _were_ friends. The lines of command and friendship had blurred the moment they had been sent back to 2008. And this wasn't going to be resolved with an order. An order would lead to resentment and machines, like Carter had said, were not immune to human emotions.

The worse of the human emotions were painfully easy for Terminators to learn, which often made them cold and callous early in their development. Only after years did they begin to act like people, more than just mindless killing machines.

Orders wouldn't work here. Carter was twice John's age and while one could classify Carter's chip as technically 'less advanced' (barely) he had twenty years of development on John. Carter was, baring Skynet, the oldest AI in Earth history.

"_I won't give an order to a friend_." He reached out and squeeze Carter's shoulder. "_But I can give advice to a friend."_

"_And if I don't need it or want it?"_

"_Tough."_

Carter snorted as the Raptor banked to search a new grid.

"_How can you give me advice anyway_?" Carter asked. The tension began to loosen. "_You fraked it up with Erica for a while… leaving like that."_

Planck grinned sheepishly. "_It was a mistake, I know… and that's the point. She also figured it out. Her personality is based on a real person, Carter, but she is an AI_." He straightened in his seat and glanced down at the controls and thought. "_You still have to understand she may see you as cold, impersonal, callous. And it isn't just her… physical relations are an afterthought. She'll never be able to experience a virtual reality simulation. Physical intercourse is fairly boring."_

"_I do know that."_

Planck looked over at him.

Carter continued_. "So what do you want? All of us find different things… hell; even Jo has her jaded cynicism to keep her company. Me? I'm always in the middle and half the time, serving as moderator between her jaded cynicism and your misplaced idealism concerning these people. Like him back there."_ He jabbed a thumb back at Baltar who was focused on the ECO console and readings.

"_I would think you would empathize with him a bit more_." Planck treaded on a delicate area of Carter's past. "_Did you tell her of your past?"_ He considered saying that he and she could at least start out honest, throw their skeletons from the closet and go from there.

"_Don't think I don't_." He paused for a minute and turned his attention out towards the horizon and the bland landscape of shrubs and pale brown dirt. "_And yes, I did. Maybe this is just something we both need? Like I said, you've seen the studies and we'll get more human all the time. I have a few decades on you and Jo."_

"_I understand, Carter, five years ago if you'd have said I'd be in a relationship_-" that sounded incredibly strange for Planck to say- "_with another AI I'd have dismissed it immediately. Like you said our neural net chips are by design changing-"_

"_And unfortunately we're started to think more and more like humans_." He gestured to his friend. "_We're both old for machines. Me, you, Jo, Cameron, Weaver, and John Henry we are the oldest machines… I'm the oldest if you discount Skynet_." Carter turned his head and could see Baltar sitting in the back, tapping away at the ECO console. "_He's talking to himself again. Is Caprica going to tell us what it is he's talking to?"_

Planck increased the sensitivity of his auditory receptors and filtered out the low rumble of Raptor engines. "_She says whatever it is won't be an issue. Just watch him_." The data he transmitted indicated his wariness with Caprica's assessment.

* * *

Baltar had kept his eyes and mind exquisitely focused on the read outs projected onto the ECO consoles as the machines in the cockpit were arguing. He couldn't hear anything and chalked it up to wireless chatter but they were gesturing which he found damn odd that they'd talk in real time.

"_You want to know why they're doing that?"_ the platinum blonde haired woman in surprisingly utilitarian green fatigues asked.

Curiously she had her hair tied back in a pony tail and the curls and unnatural fluff were gone.

Baltar gave her a despairing look and quietly pleaded with her to leave him alone yet his eyes scanned her body and marveled at how his personal protector, guardian, could manage to make military uniforms so sexy. "_You want to know, but you have to answer me question, Gaius_."

"They'll hear me," he whispered. He was so quiet he couldn't hear himself over the humming of the Raptor engines. Baltar looked sideways at her and then dared a quick look to the cockpit. He saw Carter gesturing for Planck to stop talking. Then they continued arguing. "Okay, please tell me."

"_Of course_," she grinned and gave Baltar a look. He knew it as the look she gave him when she had a secret. By this point in the game he learned to wait and the Six knew it too. She was the one who gave in. "_They're becoming more human. Look at them. You noticed it."_

"Is that it?" Baltar whispered. He rolled his eyes at the beautiful Six for just confirming what he already suspected.

The Six gave him a fierce look not to cross her. She stood up and draped her arms around Baltar's shoulders and let her hands swim across his chest, back and forth, massaging his body.

"_It's part of God's plan, Gaius. Where there is potential for life-"_

"Yes they think they're alive," he said, picking up her hands and removing them from his shoulders. He would rather the touch of the _real_ Caprica Six rather than a figment of his imagination. "Imaginary God's plan-"

He bit his lip to keep from squealing when he felt the Six's fingers digging into his shoulder, exciting the nerves, and forcing his body to twist and contort in futile efforts to escape her inescapable grasp.

"_The things I do for you, Gaius,"_ she squeezed harder and smiled at his pain, "_should be enough to not be constantly berated by you. I told you, I'm here to protect you, to help you. I see what you refuse to see, hear what you refuse to hear, and believe what your heart tells you but you continually refuse to acknowledge."_ The Six leaned in closer and nibbled tenderly on his ear before whispering, "_I said you are the hand of God."_

"Alright," he hissed. His eyes locked with those icy eyes of his self-proclaimed 'guardian' and he didn't have to apologize. She released him.

"_You deny God out of pettiness to annoy me, Gaius. You've changed. You said it yourself, you're an instrument of God's will, remember? Has He not given you chance after chance, saved you time after time?"_ She gave him a look and the flicker of a satisfied grin appeared and disappeared quickly.

Baltar turned back to his console and lazily watched the data stream in. Spikes in the EM bands were nothing abnormal and if anything outside the standard parameters came up, a nice beep-beep-beep and flashing red would snap him back.

"Is it God's will for me to be hated by my own people and be part of this motley band of refugees? That's some lackluster 'saving' if I can be brutally honest, my dear."

"_You no longer see yourself a traitor, Gaius,"_ she quickly pointed out. The Six chuckled when he opened his mouth to counter he point. She helped him close the lingering hanging jaw by placing the tips of her finger under the bone and gently pushing upwards until his teeth clicked.

"_Without New Caprica you never would have become a man, Gaius. You've been tested. You thought the planet was worthless, you knew you shouldn't have settled. Your guilt, Gaius, you're guilt influences your actions."_ The Six rubbed her hand from his left to right shoulder and stopped where she'd hurt him. She gently massaged his aching joint before running her hand through his short hair and sitting back down in the bucket seat at the back of the Raptor. "_You know you're doing God's work whether your enemies wish to accept it or not. In your charity and selflessness here you will find redemption. You will eventually be remembered as a great man, Gaius."_

Baltar snorted, but carefully, and smiled to the apparition. "Maybe I am." He had considered himself to just be lucky but the more he thought of it, the more he saw an uncanny ability for him to skirt damnation at the opportune time.

"_You worry too much. I see and hear what you deny. Roslin has no solid ground to stand on to try you."_ She seemed to read his mind._ "You knew your fate was sealed when you agreed to help Commander Adama find Pegasus."_ She smiled sweetly at him and closed her eyes and rested her head back. "_You have a defense and continue to build your impenetrable shield."_

"Against the unstoppable sword," he growled in a subdued whisper. "I don't share your optimism."

"_Of course not. You refuse what you know in your heart is true."_ She waved his pessimism away. "_Big things will happen soon. Important things. I see, hear, and feel what you do, Gaius. You're a scientist..."_

She didn't have to finish with 'figure it out.'

"You've seen what I've seen, heard what I've heard but I just haven't connected the dots, yes?" he asked mockingly. Baltar was absently tapping the metal at the ECO console, lazily leaning on his elbow when his eyes widened and he looked over at the Six.

The Six had been looking past him, staring towards the cockpit and looking out fo the canopy, looking for something. Her head twitched back and she slowly lowered herself until she was eye level with Baltar. Those icy blue eyes seemed to darken with a subdued contempt but a playful little smile appeared. "_Understand?"_ She shot up and grabbed his head before he could respond and pushed it forward. She had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the closer distance. "_That's for later,"_ she declared and pointed. "_This is for now."_ She tapped the screen.

The EM readings were flickering, numbers were changing. The _beep-beep-beep_ and flashing red halted the conversation in the front of the Raptor and in its hold. Carter was over Baltar's shoulder, the Six had disappeared.

The disgraced scientist looked up at the machine hovering over him and pointed. "I think we've found something," he managed to obviously point out.

"_Maybe you should say something?"_ the Six advised. She leaned in and kissed him under the ear.

Baltar shivered under her warm breath and his eyes rolled back. He felt like he was betraying Caprica, but how could he betray a real flesh and blood woman with an invisible woman he saw in his head?

Just as quickly as Baltar had felt the waves of pleasure building he felt her lips slowly release and could feel her presence looming over him. He opened his eyes and she was in a blue dress and she pushed him back and brought a long leg over his lap and sat down.

Baltar marveled at how the lights behind her accentuated her figured and outlined her dress in a radiant glow which was marvelous, breathtaking.

"_You're doing God's work, Baltar. You are helping to save the remnant of your civilization. You should be proud. Have faith in Him and just as importantly, faith in yourself, Gaius and you will live to see Earth."_ She leaned in as he closed his eyes and prepared. "_I promise you._" She whispered.

And then Baltar felt nothing, no one, on his lap. He slowly opened his eyes against his body's will to keep them shut and to stay in that moment of perfection as long as he could.

He closed his eyes and just let his mind wander and pretend he was anywhere but stuck in a tube of metal on this dirty, smelly, humid world.

"_You might as well tell them, Gaius,"_ the Six said, knowing he was hesitating. "_They'll know if you don't. This is it."_

"Um… I think I found something."

* * *

||||||||||==_Colonial One_==||||||||||

President Roslin was grumbling and her eyes had narrowed and were smoking like fire as Billy laid down a new set of reports on her desk. Three years, he knew better than to say anything. Especially with what she was watching.

"_-I do extend and continue to give my support to our Earth allies,"_ Billy heard. It was the familiar rough, commanding, and domineering voice of one Admiral Cain. He took note the President had watched this recording four times today. "_The actions by Mr. Crowns were unfortunate, narrow-minded, and an isolated incident."_

Billy took a seat and pretended to do paperwork at his small desk. He lazily scooped up a pencil from his pencil holder and tried to make it look like he wasn't listening in by scribbling little letters on his note pad.

"_We were performing salvage operations and we determined that a baseship transmitted a virus to our computers. As you all remember, _Galactica_ was once hit with such a virus. We have purged it from our systems and installed new firewalls. Now that we know what to look for and how to combat such a Cylon tactic, it can't happen again."_

The Special Aide to the President kept his gaze focused on the jumble of words he'd doodled and quietly sighed when he heard the President starting to rap her fingers on her desk. She was, simply put, quite mad.

He heard a feminine voice, dominant and commanding like Cains- it had to be Playa Palacios- as some pointed question about Earth. Billy snorted lightly at the thought of Cain even letting press aboard _Pegasus_. She was quite possessive of _The Beast_ and unlike _Galactica_, heavily restricted traffic to the battlestar.

Billy did admit that Cain had stuck to her end of the deal made years ago that her ship was her domain and _Galactica_ Adama's domain. As long as readiness was maintained Cain saw fit to allow Avion and Adama control of their own ships with minimal interference. A stark contrast, Billy remembered, to two years ago.

"_When we came to the Colonies we had a selective memory block installed… one we can't remove…"_ Billy heard the machine, Planck, or Blanks (he wasn't sure which the machine preferred, not that he was overly concerned with that) explain. He didn't pay attention to the rest of the explanation, which was the official statement as to why the machines didn't know where Earth was.

It was a bullfrak excuse he knew. Of course the fleet would go fraking balls up if they were told about the real reasons why the Terminators came or even how. He shook his head at the perpetual inability of the military to just trust the people.

Some other reporters started shouting. He snorted as he picked out their voices. He'd been through so many press conferences he could be half-deaf and he would still know who was who. And the one's Cain had picked were the three Colonial Gang and four others from various ships.

He figured she'd stack the deck. James McManus had been getting the majority of his questions answered promptly. He'd laid out his views quite clearly during Colonial Day, Billy recollected, concerning President Roslin. Mr. McManus had even been lucky- though Billy wasn't exactly sure if he considered it worthwhile- and had gotten the only interview Cain had ever granted, shortly after settling New Caprica.

Now he heard Cain jump in to answer something from McManus. He expected another lie and was not proven wrong. "_In addition, like we've explained before, the star patterns in Earth's sky are much different than the star patterns in the skies of the Twelve Colonies or on Kobol. Interstellar phenomena, stars that are too bright and the fact their ship was destroyed when they crashed on the Colonies… listen, we're using what was found in the Tomb of Athena and written in Pythia. We're closer. We also know the Cylons are also looking for Earth and while Earth has suffered a horrible war you've seen their weapons technology displayed on New Caprica. We're closer and with the road signs we've found, we're on the right path."_

A little flicker of a wry and devious smile appeared. And, he noted, Admiral Cain had successfully diverted the attention away from her actions on _Scylla_. He felt a small rush of adrenalin and noticed his fists were balled as one more crime went unpunished.

He had no doubt the Admiral had been silently congratulating herself throughout the earlier press conference on another cover up well done.

"Billy… Billy!"

He blinked twice and dipped his head. "Sorry, Madam President," he offered a smile but she wasn't paying attention, "my apologies," he added unnecessarily. He hesitated but decided it was best to go in. "You've watched that a lot today, Madam President." He didn't have to gesture or nod at the little computer she had plopped in front of her.

She looked at him over the brim of her black rimmed glasses and held it for a long second before chuckling and pushing the tablet computer away from her.

"There are always hard decisions we need to make, Billy." She took a long breath in. "In the chaos fleeing the Colonies we had to destroy a liner, airlock Cylons, and I would have done it again. I would do it right now. Each of those decisions was made to save lives."

Billy sat quietly as he watched her relive the memory of ordering _Olympic Carrier _to be gunned down by Apollo and Starbuck. Everything logical, rational, told him and he knew her as well, that the thirteen hundred souls on that liner had been killed by Cylon boarding parties. He'd heard through Dee that Apollo and Starbuck had watched, re-watched, and watched again the gun camera footage from their Vipers as they made their passes. The blood they believed on their hands had gnawed at them and for months had threatened to end them.

"I don't doubt that, Madam President," Billy answered with a kindness in his voice Roslin hadn't heard in some time. Not after New Caprica, at least. He could see the President relax when he gave his support. He'd noticed it on New Caprica during the Cylon Occupation. They'd been through enough then. "We all have or had a duty to perform."

Duty. He closed his eyes and drew the words in the black pit which had grown steadily over the last year. 'Duty'. The lettering hovered in front of his eyes and dripped with blood and Billy saw the man he'd shot on New Caprica, and the many whose deaths he'd been responsible for. They were traitors. But they were humans.

He tried to label them as traitors to humanity, separate himself from them. Us and them. 'They' weren't even worthy of being considered human. It didn't help and it never did.

Billy felt the blood on his hands and the cold winds of New Caprica's winter even as he sat in the warm cabin of _Colonial One_. He knew what it was like to sentence people to death.

He had been meticulous. For hours he sat across from Roslin and Dee and Tory and went through one file folder after another. Their clandestine operations under the noses of the Cylon occupiers and their New Caprica Police cronies had been spaced over months and had seen results.

Billy had had no problem identifying the men and women who wore the NCP uniform. He had known, not acknowledged but known that as soon as they were identified as NCPers it would be a death sentence.

And the irony of whom their assassin had been. She had been ruthless, efficient, and Gods damned proficient at killing humans.

On New Caprica the city had been barren, gray, and impersonal. He once made the mistake of looking at that young and beautiful face and for a moment had forgotten there was a killer under the mask.

There had been no soul in those cold cobalt blue eyes. New Caprica had been cold but in her presence in had been icy. The machine would stroll in and examine the photographs. She would flip through the files like a book, close the folder, and throw it back on the table.

It had been a dirty secret the leaders of the insurgency had kept. A small band of radicals, miscreants, and fanatics, the Sons of Ares, had found out, and certain events occurred which had almost led to a civil war within the insurgency itself.

That thought and memory still stung and felt fresh. An enemy of mechanical occupiers marching through the streets and still they couldn't stop fighting each other.

"Billy, Billy?"

His head swiveled back and he saw a confused frown from the president.

"Sorry, Madam President. I was just remembering something I… had to do later." He ran that through his mind silently one more time and it sounded just as pathetic the second time as the first.

"You've been a bit distracted recently." She shook her head and plucked her glasses from the brim of her nose and then leaned back. "The politics in this fleet are getting more and more insufferable." Roslin rubbed the bridge of her nose delicately. "You want the job, Billy?" She looked up and smiled at her longtime aide who was trying to look distracted while his slowly shook his head. It lightened the mood a little and her smile broadened.

"No, no, not me." He coughed into his shoulder. "But I…" he didn't finish.

Roslin could sense the tension and his disapproval.

"What is it?" She asked.

Billy felt the mental walls rise in a vain effort to stop his thoughts from manifesting as words and sentences. They didn't hold long.

"With all due respect, Madam President, I think this, uh, issue"-if she could Roslin would have speared him with his eyes- "might be getting… too much attention." He felt the blood drain from his face as he quietly danced around the issue.

Commander Adama had pulled him aside yesterday on _Galactica_ and spoken with him. While Billy disliked Cain and saw her as unduly militaristic and confrontational and unrealistically ambitious the case Adama had made had been airtight. The fleet couldn't function if the two women at the top were plotting and scheming to get each other with a quick stab in the back while smiling politely at each other.

Billy inwardly shook his head.

"I'm not excusing what she did." He found his confidence he'd gained on New Caprica. "We could never have done anything and if we could have we should have acted earlier, immediately. With all due respect she has a following and I just don't see anything"-

He almost jumped when the phone rang. Despite the confidence and strength he'd found he'd blocked everything and sectioned everything else to the point he was almost on auto-pilot. After the third ring and President Roslin now staring at him over the brim of her glasses in that displeasing, judgmental way of hers, he finally was able to move his hand to pick up the phone.

"Office of the President… yes… thank you Dee, I'll her know…." He hung up and turned to the President. "They found something on the planet."

* * *

||||||||||==Algae Planet==||||||||||

Raptor 731 touched down with a slight jostle which only increased Apollo's grumbling.

Starbuck was taking her time powering down the Raptor and seemed to be moving extra slow. Apollo watched her quietly as she moved slower than an eighty year old woman. It was decidedly deliberate, her exaggerated unhurried movements. The _Pegasus_ XO looked down at his feet and grinned; he had a part to play in her annoyance. Making supply runs to the planet wasn't a duty many of the pilots scrambled and clawed over each other for. It was a duty they'd go along with some grumbles and complaints.

They wouldn't be pilots if they didn't have something to complain about.

"You almost done in there…" -he considered adding in one more final word which would certainly result in her attempting (and her being Starbuck, failing) to withhold sex- "_dear_?"

The grin grew wider when he saw her had stop mid-button push and then slowly, almost painfully pushed the button and slowly brought her hand back to her lap where it remained for a long few seconds.

In retribution she sat still for a moment, relishing Apollo's discomfort in the back of a cramped Raptor, and then began to move at such a slower pace she even considered it ridiculous. But she knew he deserved it. Somehow he was behind him getting her, the CAG!, placed on these supply runs

Starbuck had somehow managed to find herself being selected for supply runs from the 'randomized' duty roster on a regular basis now. Somehow 'random' duty assignments turned into her getting supply runs for the last three days straight.

Apollo knew she knew he had a hand in it. Showboat and Two Times had been more than willing to have a hand in it to prank the CAG. Plus, he figured, if he had to be on this planet and sleep on an itchy, thin, and patently uncomfortable cot the last two weeks it was only proper for his wife to share his _wonderful_ experience of always being sweaty, grimy, and covered in the foul-smelling green blue algae. Which did- he knew all too well- get _everywhere_.

"Come on, let's go," he grumbled, banding on the hatch hurriedly. He could pull the emergency release, but that would be logged in the flight computer, and that would just be paperwork once he got back to _Pegasus_.

Then he heard a knock on the hatch, some footsteps on the metal wing, and then saw Planck's head in front of the canopy and him gesturing for them to hurry up.

"Hey, it's his fault, Blanks, that we're moving slow!" Starbuck yelled at the machine through the canopy. "Men are so impatient." She muttered as she took out her post-flight checklist, scanned it quickly, and popped it back into her thigh pocket.

She secured her helmet in the co-pilot's seat and twisted her pistol belt until the buckle was midline. It had a tendency to shift during flight, which was something that had bothered her going on seven, eight years now. Pulling out the band tying her hair into a pony tail she let her hair sit naturally on her shoulders.

"Well, there's a sight," Apollo complimented.

"Thank you."

"Oh, what?" He looked around the cabin to feign confusion. "I meant the mountain behind us."

Starbuck rolled her eyes.

"And you…" she said menacingly to Apollo wagging her finger. She reached over and tapped the hatch release, which hissed and then slowly groaned to an open. "You need to watch it, bub-"

She leaned over to kiss him, but at the last possible second he turned so she kissed his cheek. She'd been going in for a full on, passionate kiss, and instead reeled back and her lips puckered like she'd tasted something sour and bitter.

"Ah, yuck. There's algae all over your face… sick." She pawed at her tongue with her glove to wipe the taste off and instead got the taste of Raptor oil with a hint of tyllium fuel. "Ew, even worse."

"You should see your face!" Apollo managed to squeaked out in between deep inhalations to laugh. His ribs were hurting from laughing so hard- "Ow!" he yelped when Starbuck gave him a good jam in the side with her elbow. "Alright, alright, truce…" he waved his arms defensively and submitted to her punishment.

Starbuck stepped past and let her hand brush up against Apollo but still had her back to the hatch.

"You really are evil."

"Maybe… you'll-"

"Wow, can you two hurry?"

Starbuck turned around and Apollo peeked over her shoulder.

"How long have you been-"

"-standing here?" Planck finished, crossing his arms. "Long enough. You should see what we found."

Apollo sighed and put his hands on Starbuck's shoulders to move past her. He hopped onto the Raptor's wing, looked down to make sure there wasn't anything under him, and then jumped down beside Planck. A bit of the white dust was kicked up and he coughed.

"I told you not to go in before we got here." He said calmly. He looked behind his shoulder over the Raptor and studied the mountain.

It was nearly a hundred kilometers north of the primary base site and built onto a small mountain. Heavy cliffs were on the north face and on the south a deed, wide, winding valley ran for half a dozen kilometers.

The Raptor had landed on the eastern side where the ground was flatter.

Apollo looked up and saw a black object in the sky and used his hands to shield his eyes.

"Another Raptor." John explained. Apollo grunted his acknowledgment.

"I contacted Admiral Cain," Apollo began again, now brushing the dirt off from his fatigues and tank top, "and she's getting a few science teams ready from the fleet. I guess we'll set up a base camp…" he looked around, "maybe over there near the north east section?" He pointed and stepped towards the rear of the Raptor. "Yeah, that looks good. Cover from the rocks."

"I think he's more interested in showing you his new toy, Apollo," Starbuck called from inside the Raptor.

"Alright… you coming, Starbuck?"

"We should go," John stated. Apollo just motioned for him to hold on. "Carter and Baltar are already in there."

* * *

John and Carter had both felt the static cloud their vision as they had neared what they had already labeled a temple. The similarities to the one found in Athens were evident.

The machine stood off to the side as Starbuck and Apollo entered. Each immediately had a reflexive reaction to look up and almost gasp at the majesty and size of the cavern.

"Gods… what do you know so far?" Apollo asked, hands on hips as he surveyed the entire chamber. He pointed at the central column and the five surrounding pentagonal pillars. "What are those?" he asked, walking towards them.

He moved cautiously towards the center of the chamber. Apollo could just barely hear the faint shuffled of two others, Carter and Baltar, behind the massive pillar, discussing, or arguing, about its significance.

"This really is amazing," Starbuck whispered, turning around to see the full view of the cavern. She saw John looking towards the ground. "Something the matter?" She heard Apollo shuffle around.

"We found something like this on Earth, another chamber. It did something to us, um, the best way to describe it"-he saw concern on Starbuck's face and curiosity on Apollo's- "is sort of like a static or snow like you would see on a television."

They were half way between the door to the chamber and the center of the room.

"And is this affecting you now?" Apollo asked warily. He flexed his jaw. "What will that do?" He continued without waiting for John to answer.

John looked at Starbuck and then Apollo. "Yes." He walked past the two pilots. "But we'll be fine."

It came and went, the 'static'. The sensation wasn't pain, not in the absolute strict definition of the word. Instead, it felt more like something off-putting, like one would feel if they believed they were being watched. It was strange for the machines, not being able to quantify what they were feeling, but hardly debilitating.

"This is very interesting," Baltar yelled over. He was smack in the middle of the column, in front of the smallest pentagonal column. It stood a little above average waist height. Baltar ran his hands over the stone lettering on the column. "This is ancient, very ancient, Kobolian." He shook his head. "It was obscure even on Kobol. The glyphs. I think this confirms it then." He looked expectantly over at John and Carter.

Baltar reached out and touched the glyphs, his lips moving quickly as he tried to decipher them. "Those three signify Jupiter… hm, they're using the Tauron pantheon. Interesting." He clicked his tongue. "We think that Tauron might have been the first or second colony established… Tauron and Caprica could never quite resolve it, too little evidence either way."

"So you can confirm this is from the Thirteenth then." Carter said to Baltar. The scientist nodded, then shrugged, then looked worryingly at the machine that was staring at him, and then nodded earnestly. Carter just stood while the scientist kept changing his mind. "We'll assume it is."

Starbuck had walked up to stand beside John, with Apollo next to her. "So you were right then," she said with a smirk and a gentle backhand slap to the machine bicep. "See, I think"- Baltar moved away from the central column, towards the left- "…what the frak." Kara whispered.

She felt light, weightless, like she was swimming.

Her feet moved her forward and what she heard as a whisper, her husband was raising his voice, asking her what she was doing. She waved him back as she took a step onto the platform.

In the center of the writing on the column was a magnificent red, orange, blue, and black symbol. A swirling mandala, an eye within an eye within a storm. Her hand slowly extended and her fingers glided slowly, from top to bottom. Her lips quivered with silent movement- prayers- as her eyes moved with a strange ferocity over the image.

"Kara… Kara," Apollo called her name, concerned. Carter and Baltar were attracted by his commotion and John looked once at Apollo, his machine eyes devoid of answers, and Apollo stepped up. "Kara, what are you-"

He reached out and gently touched her arm. She had unzipped her flight suit and had tied the long sleeves around her waist. His finger slid off her sweaty arm as she staggered back and brushed past him. Starbuck began to fall back, with both John and Apollo reaching out to catch her.

Behind her was the central pentagonal column. Small, as dark as obsidian, and with sharp, pointed corners.

Her hands reached back and she fell, slicing a line down her forearm. She yelped as she seemed to break from her trance. The blood spilled onto the black as night face of the column. Apollo grabbed her before she fell to the ground.

"Kara, what the frak was that?" he asked forcefully though gently. His eyes glistened as his pupils dilated from concern and fear. He knelt down and helped her into a kneel.

"Yeah… Lee… I'm okay. I, my mother, she had me draw that once… I…" he hand reached out and her pointer finger extended, pointing at the mandala. "I-"

A crack of thunder sounded. The door to the cavern slid shut, it smashed into its frame and hissed and squealed as the seal became airtight.

The lights dimmed. Apollo had a pistol out.

The two pilots and Baltar were huddled into a defensive circle by the machines, already wary for attack. Memories of the T-800 ambush flooded their neural nets, as impossible as that would be here, thousands of light years from Earth, they took no chance. Their defensive protocols were automatic, reflexive.

Extended on the floor from the central platform with the six pillars was a stoned and marbled walk way, a slight off-red color. It extended, like the tip of a spoon, into a circle. The same mandala on the colossal central column was on the floor.

The red began to glow like a magnificent ruby in the sunlight. The orange was as fierce as the sun. The blue a deep sapphire. Each color reached up towards the ceiling and five sets of eyes followed. The white rods at the tip of the central column hummed and a white light exploded outwards and showered down like rain.

The lights converged, coalesced, into a globe, two meters above the ground.

The three Colonials watched as everything surrounding them turned black. To the machines, the static and snow increased, except for the center of their vision. All five saw the mandala on the floor ignite, the boom of thunder that sounded throughout the chamber was enough to shatter eardrums.

Apollo, Starbuck, and Baltar all winced, their mouth agape in silent agony. As deafness took hold of them the three felt a serene calm as the globe took shape. All five were on their knees.

For the most brief of second they saw a globe of light and hope. Each recognized it. Earth.

* * *

Gunnery Sergeant Chris Purcell was anxious. He was a twelve year veteran of the Colonial Marines and an experienced one at that. On the Colonies he had fought against insurgents on Sagittaron and against pirates in two separate campaigns.

He had been in half a dozen platoon to company-sized engagements before the holocaust and Exodus.

On New Caprica he had partnered with Soto in their execution of New Caprica Police and in ambushes of Cylon patrols. New Caprica and the assault on the Cylon derelict at the Lion's Head Nebula had been his most recent action. He didn't count Gina's rampage on _Pegasus_. He wasn't ignoring her victims, but he couldn't shake the guilt that he'd been responsible for her crimes as a complacent crewmember who had stood by.

He shook his head, opened his eyes wide, and blinked once, twice, and then flexed his jaw. He shrugged his shoulders to adjust his combat vest and ran his hands over his sub-machine gun one last time. He tapped his vest to double check where his magazines were and he visually spotted two flash grenades and one frag grenade sitting quietly in side pockets.

Purcell nodded to a Marine opposite him, Corporal Santos. He'd worked with Santos before. The corporal was a _Galactica_ Marine but had been part of the landing party that had accompanied Athena and Carter and brought them their shiny new weapons to smash Centurion toasters into tiny little chunks of scrap metal.

He was a good Marine. Disciplined and well-rounded in his skill set.

The Gunny nodded to himself as he received a signal from the pilot. They were thirty seconds out from the site. He stood up and grabbed a handrail and activated his throat mike. A storm had appeared and it was raining, and the drops were pounding off the hull like boulders.

"Alright. Major Adama missed his check thirty minutes ago. We've tried establishing contact, nothing. _Galactica_'s telescopes tell us the Raptors are parked outside where they believe there's a temple or whatever the machines found." He shrugged. "The radiological alarms also went balls to the walls about thirty-two minutes ago. There was also some weird ass thermal reading readings coming from the temple thing."

"Nukes, sir?" one of the Marines in the back of the Raptor asked over the roar.

Purcell shook his head and then wiped his mouth to clear off the disgusting taste of algae and then licked dry, cracked lips. "I don't think so…" he saw the 'what the frak' looks and head bobs of confusion. "The radiological alarms said something radiological… could be a power plant going active. I don't know. But we lost contact. We're going in hot. Fire team Alpha will go in first covered by Bravo and Charlie. Do this right."

"Cylons?"

The veteran beat down a reflex to roll his eyes. Most of the kids here- and he did see them not really as kids, but young men- were about six to ten years younger. But they still saw him as some 'wise old man' archetype for the ship's Marines.

"Don't know, Cal," he shot back to a lance corporal who would be leading Bravo. "Raptor Two will have Delta and Echo secure the Raptors and be our reserve."

The Gunny tensed his legs as he felt the Raptor go from a nearly three hundred kilometer per hour speed to a hover in a split second. As usual he felt his guts swish about inside his torso and the familiar feeling of a need to puke, which he repressed skillfully, as the Raptor came down a bit quick for a combat landing.

He popped out a small PDA from his pocket.

Over his shoulder and through the canopy he saw Raptor 2 had already landed slightly up the slope and its Marines were filing out and already securing the two Raptors; one the machines had piloted and one Apollo and Starbuck had piloted.

He checked the PDA. A third Raptor was on over flight beaming recon video and had a direct feed into his wireless headset for intelligence, just in case. The feeling of rabid paranoia was gripping, but there were procedures and a radiological alarm and Major Adama being incognito were enough to send the warning and demand action.

The Raptor jostled as it hit the sandy ground and the hatch seals twisted, hissed, and a stream of hot and incredibly humid air raced into the cabin. The rain still came down and bit at the Marines as they jumped from the wing to the ground, the sand and dirt turning into a lightly colored mud.

They advanced quickly and methodically, one fire team and then another. Purcell kept a split eye on his PDA and one ear open for any warnings from the Raptor in over watch above.

The signal that the Raptors were secured came in over Purcell's wireless and he clicked his throat mike twice to confirm. His team continued moving up, leapfrogging quickly but vigilantly.

They reached the mouth to what had been described as the entrance by John to Adama before the _Pegasus_ XO and the CAG had taken a Raptor out here to investigate first. He mentally shook his head. They should have taken a squad with them for security but he then silently snorted at remembered they probably had the equivalent of a company of Marines with them in the two machines.

Corporal Santos signaled back. Footprints. Bingo. Purcell took out the a thermal and motion scanner, but nothing could penetrate the rocks. He signaled for Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie to move up.

* * *

Major Adama groaned and rubbed his forehead gingerly. He gasped and his eyes shot opened as he felt the metal of his pistol grip in his hand. "_What the frak_?" he whispered and looked around viciously to remember _why_ he had his pistol clutched in his hand. "Oh Gods, Kara!" He yelled when his eyes caught sight of her, lying on her side, back to him. He pushed himself over and shook her. "Kara!"

"Oh Gods, Lee, not so loud," she groaned, rolling herself onto her back and looking up into his eyes. She heard his gun slide back into its holster and felt his arms wrap around her and her around him. She kissed him until the magic vanished when Gaius Fraking Baltar reminded them of his presence.

"Oh, what the frak was that." The scientist muttered. He was sprawled on the floor, face down. His hands were stretched in front of him as he searched for something and brushed against Starbucks pant leg. She kicked his hand away. "What?" He pushed himself up and massages both sides of his temples furiously. "Ahhh."

"Did you three see Earth?" The three Colonials heard.

John and Carter were sitting up and in a flash and silent hustle stood.

"Are you three okay?" John asked, stepping over and kneeling in front of Starbuck and Apollo. He kept his hands to himself and instead opted for a deep visual scan. Apollo and Starbuck were more preoccupied with each other and didn't notice the machine weirdly staring at the two of them. Satisfied there was nothing wrong with them, John stood up and moved over to Baltar.

"I got him," Carter informed Planck. His CO curtly nodded. "That was Earth."

"That was Earth?" Apollo asked. "How in the name of Tartarus does this place have an image of Earth?" He coughed. He stood up and helped Starbuck up. "This makes no sense." He said. He brushed himself off and winced when he saw the gash in Starbuck's arm. His fingers pressed gently on the wound and Starbuck playfully shoved him and tugged back at her arm. "You'll need to rub some disinfectant in that."

Starbuck shot him one of her grins. "Oh thanks, Lee." She rolled her eyes and giggled. "Okay," she turned her attention to the two (or three) she assumed would know the answer. "What the frak-"

They heard shuffling as the Marines rushed in. Major Adama spun and positioned himself in front of Starbuck, his hand already on his pistol. Starbuck's fingers graced hers until she saw the black armored, algae covered Marines.

They fanned out from the door, which had re-opened, and had their rifles up as they scanned the chamber. Four Marines approached cautiously and Apollo recognized their commanding NCO.

"Gunny," Apollo said, pulling his hand off his grip and relaxing himself. He felt his heart beat slowing after it had almost leapt from his chest and pounded its way out. "We're alright."

"Sir, we had no contact and a radiological alarm."

Apollo cocked his head, though it felt more like a jerk. "No contact? Wait… how long… radiological?"

"You missed your scheduled check in over thirty minutes ago and we detected a radiological signature. We thought…" Purcell hummed to himself and snorted. "Well, we thought maybe the Cylons had snuck down here or something." He relaxed fully and waved for his team to stand down and called to the team on the Raptors to stand down. "I honestly don't know, sir." He tapped the side of his tight and a few spare pistol mags clicked together. "I guess it's better to over react?"

Adama sighed with a slight underlying 'um' sound then furrowed his brow and nodded. "John," he turned around. "What the frak happened?"


	32. Chapter 32

||||||||||==BS-75 _Galactica_ (+1011 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

The Old Man, magnifying glass in one hand and photographs in the other, meticulously read line-by-line the glyphs from the columns from the 'Temple of Five.' The translation had been difficult, even for the machines, since there were no records of what the glyphs meant in any of the databases.

The eureka moment had come when a Preist had found an old scroll dating back hundreds of years aboard _Cloud 9_ in the possession of a wealthy (as Adama thought of that he had to use quotes since wealth didn't matter anymore) Virgon passenger. He only had the scroll with him because he'd been in the process of moving from Gemenon to Caprica and wanted his valuables with him in his plush cabin.

The scroll had had a single line of glyphs on it, as a sort of title, with the rest written in the ancient tongue supposedly spoken on Kobol. It gave some minor context for the machines and the priests to work with.

Adama groaned and took off his glasses and carefully rubbed his eyes. The subdued yellow, almost golden light from his lamp was barely powerful enough to read the reports and his body cast a long and deep shadow from his desk towards his bunk. He looked up, over at the bed longingly. It wasn't late, not even close, and he'd gotten a pretty good bit of sleep, but it just felt late. Even if all his other senses were telling him otherwise, he just felt tired.

The Old Man started to let his mind wander. Last night he'd dined with President Roslin, Billy, and another young woman he'd met only a handful of time, Tory Foster, one of her advisors. He'd offered Saul an invitation but he'd come up with some excuse about Viper maintenance overhaul or something which of course required the XO's presence. He chuckled and shook his head as he thought of all the times Saul, his oldest and best friend, had tried to avoid anything formal or even remotely hinting of politics.

He sighed, fingered another report, then pushed back from his chair to turn on another light but stopped when he heard a faint rap at his door. The familiar deep reverberating _clunk clunk_ of a balled fist knocking on his hatch shook him back from his daydreams and memories.

"Come in." He called out as he straightened in his chair and organized the papers. He frowned at the data disk containing digital files of the photographs and a video walkthrough of the temple. He pawed it and tossed it into an open desk drawer which held his tablet computer. Adama had never been a fan of technology and was grateful someone was here; he could put off watching the videos for a little while at least, before his meeting with the Admiral on _Pegasus_.

"Hello, sir," came a somewhat timid voice.

His brow furrowed and he looked up at Starbuck. She seemed a bit… he wasn't sure, maybe 'out of it.' She looked distracted, definitely distracted he thought as she crossed his quarters from the door over towards his desk. The last few days had been a wild ride for her.

"Starbuck," he said, standing up and moving around his desk. "Please." He motioned to his couch and guided her over from the small of her back. He sat down next to her. "How is the arm?"

"Oh!" She pulled the sleeve of her duty uniform up a bit. "It'll be fine. Tetanus shot wasn't fun, though." She waved the memory away and paused and studied the Old Man's model sailing ship for a moment.

"What's up?"

Starbuck blinked and turned her head back. Her eyes were dark and distant and her shoulder looked like they had the weight of the worlds on them.

"I… I don't know." She was flustered. She didn't see the Commander narrow his eyes slightly as he instantly understood this was not a typical social visit. "I saw the mandala… look." She took a drawing from her pocket, crinkled and creased, and handed it to Adama. "My mother scribbled something like that once when I was like five and… she started having me draw it… something about destiny. I don't know sir… she… I don't know." She buried her face in her hands and brought them back, over his cheeks, through her tightly pulled blonde hair, and over the back of her neck. "I've never told anyone…:

She finished with a distinct hopelessness in her voice while she watched the Commander study the drawing, she tried not to fidget.

"A coincidence?" Adama muttered under his breath looking up at her. She shook her head. "Your mother?"

She shrugged and ran a hand through her blonde hair. "All she said sir was something about the end of the war, when she was on Tauron."

Starbuck could recall the day with crystal clarity. Though the crystal was soon clouded with blackness. That had been a few weeks after her father had left them. Her mother had been in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and smoking and drawing. She had climbed up on a chair and reached out to see what her mother was drawing. The circles and radiant angles had interested her, the young Kara Thrace.

Except she knocked her mother's ash tray over, spilling the used butts and ash onto the table and the drawing.

That was the first time her mother broke her fingers.

"I… she had me draw it. Destiny." She mumbled. "And she… it was an accident, sir, I wanted to see what it was she was doing. I leaned over the table and tipped over… tipped over her ashtray."

Adama looked up and could see the moisture in Kara's eyes and moved closer. She was perhaps the strongest young woman he had ever known and he only knew bits, fragments of her youth. Even Zak had never broken through the armored shell, that unbreakable impenetrable shield that was once Kara Thrace. Lee had whittled it down, made holes in the armor. She could see be the old and carelessly Starbuck, the one who could still drink a bit too much and fight her fellow officers. She was also more focused, clear-headed, professional. She was more calm and actually had something to live for. But there was something else which had been chewing at her, which she'd pushed down, only to have it awoken in that temple.

He moved closer and as only a father could, held her tight.

* * *

||||||||||==_Colonial One_==||||||||||

President Roslin, as President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol felt there was no need to justify herself to anyone. As her predecessor had so poignantly, rudely pointed out once in his office, being the president meant no justifications to anyone. _That_, she found, was not accurate, not in the least. There was _always_ someone one had to justify oneself to.

Of course she could issue orders and have them carried out, she knew that. She had broad authority and the iron will to use said authority for the good of the fleet. But even with so much power she felt a little gurgling inside of her, a little thrashing deep in her gut, which told her she was not above justifications. There was one person, well, two, whom she did justify herself to on a regular basis.

One was currently with her.

Commander Adama sat across from her and for the life of her she could not concentrate on what he was saying. She saw the cracked lips moving- courtesy of a malfunctioning environmental system making _Colonial One_ bone dry- yet couldn't hear any of the words those lips were saying. Her mind was a whirlwind of disorganized thoughts and actively working against her.

The man she regarded as the one person she did have to justify herself had arrived with a tablet computer and an intimidating pile of reports a few centimeters thick. The first batch of reports had been delivered by Tory about an hour ago. They'd plowed through those relatively quickly. Commander Adama was heading a training program to train a force of reservists. The military transports which had been discovered with _Helios_ had allowed _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ to be almost fully crewed. But more never hurt.

The President considered the tempo of the fleet since New Caprica. There was an unsaid urgency to the training. _Pegasus_ was building Vipers at almost four a month after receiving equipment from the Guardians. With_ Galactica's_ starboard flight pod fully operational her Viper compliment had doubled after New Caprica. She was still getting equipment transfers and crew training to open her own very limited Viper production lines.

Roslin frowned to herself as she pushed a paper up towards the edge of her desk outlining what she had just thought. She tapped a finger quietly on the stack of papers as she thought. With the fleet moving back towards Earth they'd need all the Vipers they could get. And seeing that massive fleet of Cylon baseships at the _Battle of the_ _Lion's Head Nebula_ had shaken many of those with access to the entire classified reports.

She pulled up a repair memo for the civilian ships. Roslin cracked a mental smile. This was her realm where she was master and commander. Civies were hers. Military was theirs.

The star cluster and its heavy ionized plasma had damaged many of the ships. The few dome ships, such as _Cloud 9_ and _Everlasting Bliss_ had had their parks wiped out from the radiation. _Green Sun_, the botanical cruiser in the fleet and its twenty domes was barren and lifeless.

Shuttles were running between the fleet and the planet and bringing up soil for the liners to use. The ionized plasma had irradiated the soil and had been deemed more efficient to just dump it than try to decontaminate.

There was also the concern of FTL engines. Some of the ships were old, very old, and their engines were still glitching from the enormous stress the ionized plasma and heavy radiation had inflicted on the fleet. Roslin thought of the vulnerable state of the fleet and glanced to the side out the portholes.

_Colonial One_ had been undergoing repairs. While it had been nestled safely within _Galactica's_ cavernous landing pods the FTL had been acting up. A dozen other ships were having their engines overhauled.

Roslin mentally shrugged and sagged back in her high chaired seat. If they couldn't do it now, when could they? There were plenty of crews working to fix the FTLs and in the safety of the star cluster this was their opportunity.

She shifted her eyes out towards the fleet and the green-blue planet. She hadn't been down there but had been told it was hot, humid, and algae got _everywhere_. Every little personal nook and every little very personal cranny… she got a picture, a very inappropriate picture of Bill Adama trying to clean out algae… blinking, she shook herself out of her little daydream when she heard him say something which had nothing to do with the progress reports.

She took off her glasses. Gently she placed them to her right and then made sure she was sitting extra straight and rigid. She was ready.

President Roslin saw him look over at the glasses and the most minute flickers of the smallest smile fluttered onto the corner of his lips before being consumed by the overflowing stoicism.

"Do you want to talk about it." He said again. "You're distracted. I can tell. A lot of us can tell. So do you want to talk about it."

It was worded like a question but the tone and pitch of the Commander's voice was anything but. Somehow he sounded like some sort of strange, ethereal combination of stoic military commander, pious priest, and wise statesman all in one. To her he seemed to be an embodiment of poise and elegance with a voice which could cut through someone's soul and eyes which could reduce the largest of men to nothingness.

Right now he was channeling the commander, priest, and statesman. He wasn't judgmental in the least.

'Not really' was President Roslin's silent answer. Then her mental avatar slapped herself and mentally scolded her that that wasn't going to cut it-

"Laura… we've both had problem with the Admiral-"

She looked at her desk. "Is that what we're calling them, Bill?" She whispered. '_What happened to_…' she mouthed down at her desk and couldn't complete the silent question.

Laura felt it bubbling back and distracting her from the Commander, but couldn't bring herself to bring up that wonderfully painful memory.

"Laura."

"Bill. What happened, it happened." She protested. Silently, he looked at her. "What am I to do, Bill?" She leaned forward. "Gods damn it, we planned to kill her," she hissed. "Her inner circle are loose cannons. Her XO before your son was dirty and in Mr. Phelan's pocket… who participated with her aide, now effectively third in command, and massacred civilians." She snorted, laughed darkly to herself, and then leaned back. Adama was silently staring at her still. "And let's not forget her… experience with and then brutal raping of a Cylon."

Adama raised an eyebrow at that.

"The Cylon…" Roslin trailed off. "What do you want me to say, Bill? That we've done worse? Bring up _Olympic Carrier_ again… but… we knew the Cylons killed the crew… there were nukes on board. What would the Cylons have done if we didn't destroy the ship or we jumped away? Even with the people still alive they'd have been tortured…" she choked up. "I was in their jails for long enough on New Caprica, Bill." She was vehemently shaking her head. Slowly, but the point was being made. "We at least had some hope we'd get out of there. On a baseship? Never. That would be a slow, painful, painful death."

They sat in silence for a moment. Roslin still wasn't done with her thought and Adama could sense it. He held back and stayed quiet to let her.

Laura took him up on silent offer. "She tried to judge me, _you_ over what we had to do. Who gave her that right after what she has done?"

"Do you believe people deserve a second chance?" Adama asked, his head moving slowly from the left until it was cocked slightly to the right. He blinked slowly once and waited. "I abandoned forty-five thousand people on New Caprica. Thirteen hundred died because I jumped. I retreated. I abandoned you." He stood. "I judged her once but how can I condemn her when I believe my… _sin_s, are worse? More black." He said quietly. "We all carry a burden, Laura."

"So that's it then?"

"There aren't many of us left." He nodded at the white board. The destruction of _Virgon Express, Disquiet, Lakefront, _and_ Gemenon Traveler_ had lowered their number by over a thousand since the attack on the Guardian mobile base after New Caprica. "Our civilization, if we can call it that, Laura, needs each of us."

"And the dangerous ones?" she grunted disagreement.

Her eye caught his and she saw something she hadn't seen since New Caprica. From the depth of her soul she cursed the planet and its power, its stranglehold it had over them still. She thought the Fall had been horrific, but the Occupation of New Caprica had supplanted that… those gunmetal gray Centurions, ruby red eyes, and that back-and-forth noise those blood colored eyes made as they moved... It had been _personal_.

"_Pegasus_ is a part of this fleet. The best part?" Adama asked and shrugged. He tapped his thigh, right above his knee as he thought. "A necessary part. And I think my son and daughter-in-law are helping reform it. Laura… and what we did before… it's what we do now that matters." He closed his eyes on the last sentence and opened them again on the last word.

She looked down at her hands. "Then why won't you let me back in? What we had on New Caprica-"

Adama took a step back. "I left you on that planet." He stepped back and walked to the door. His hand was out and stopping him, gripping the frame. Adama looked over his shoulder, his eye firmly set on his dulled yellow _Galactica_ patch, but he could see her looking down from his peripheral vision. "We've all made mistakes we have to live with. That is our individual burden. I left you on the planet… I can't let myself do that again."

* * *

||||||||||==BS-62 _Pegasus_==||||||||||

Commander Adama returned a crisp and precise salute from the duo of Marine guards outside Admiral Cain's quarters. He mentally grimaced as he watched the young Marine corporal pull out his magnetic key card from under his armored vest and swipe it through the reader.

The Marine didn't smile and Adama detected a hint of contempt from the man but didn't make an issue out of it. The sentinel pivoted back and brought his feet together, his opposite doing the same, and they popped to attention as Adama walked between them and into Cain's quarters.

The Old Man immediately saw the almond brown hair of Cain's backside as she stooped over her slightly-higher-than-waist high tables and examined something. Piles of old Colonial books, tactical manuals, and operations manuals were neatly arranged at the ends of her table, almost walling her into the middle. He stepped inside and waited until the doors closed and their seals clicked shut before walking over to her.

He didn't see John standing to the side and suppressed a jump of surprise when those blue eyes met his own.

When the machines had transferred from _Galactica_ to _Pegasus_ they'd claimed it was for the equipment and facilities. A _Mercury_-class was outfitted with the best cubits could buy (or more appropriate Adama thought, 'bought'). He'd felt relieved to have such dangerous machines off his ship. Only after they'd left had he realized why they'd left, and 'equipment' was not it.

"I never knew when I was promoted to admiral the paper work would quadruple. Even running for our lives and a million light years from the Colonies the bureaucracy of the fleet is almost overwhelming," Cain proclaimed as she kept her back to him. She could feel an already uncomfortable silence on the verge of become tense and awkward.

Cain could also sense something on the mind of her number two. She finished her though with a quick look at the Commander, locking her dark brown eyes with his youthful blue one, and the corner of her mouth quivered up. He was opposite her now and she snuck a quick run up and down with her eyes as she sidestepped and focused on a manila folder which was at the top of her mountain of battlestar manuals.

She nodded at John and then turned back to the Commander.

"So… I was on the planet yesterday. I saw this temple they found, whatever it is." Cain continued and slid a manila file folder to Adama and waited until he had a chance to glance over the dozen pictures. She tapped the glass table with her index finger. "Do you want to fill us in, Planck?"

"Certainly, Admiral." He replied dryly. "We're still not sure what the temple is, Commander. But we believe it may be linked with perhaps the time displacement arrays. We're only going on that theory, as flimsy as it may be, because of the temple we found in Athens, on Earth." He shrugged.

Adama thumbed through the pictures before resting on the one of a pedestal in the shape of a pentagon. "You said you believe this is the main control node?" He asked, pointing to the pedestal and flipping the picture back over. It was the smallest of the pentagonal pedestals and positioned in the center front. Cain nodded. "That's the working theory based on Starbuck's accidental activation of the device."

"Accidental?" Cain asked with raised eyebrows. "Only when she's in proximity to the pedestal does it work _at all_," she pointed out curtly. "There's some sort of circuitry built into the pedestal. Baltar-" she rolled her eyes "-says the circuitry is nothing like he's ever seen."

"It's some sort of nanotechnology," John filled in. "Extremely advanced."

The Commander nodded. "We could let the Cylon take a look," he offered. Calling the Six in _Galactica_'s brig by her name produced a fifty-fifty chance Cain would lock up at the memory of her Six. "Baltar _does_ seem to work better with her around…" he trailed off and added a bit under his breath, "as strange as it is." He finished with the folder and closed it. "But we need a full translation of the glyphs, correct?"

"Frak, Bill, I think maybe fifty people in the fleet had a marginal understanding of ancient Kobolian. Half of them are priests and half of them are torn between this being some great sign and a great evil- brought to us courtesy of toasters." She hit her thigh with a loosely balled fist. "The other half who spoke the language have no idea how to speak this dialect of ancient Kobolian… to say it's obscure would be an understatement. If it _is_ Kobolian." She waved off in frustration and took a drink from a water glass she'd been sipping from for half the morning. "Even if we put the Six by Baltar's side, I still don't trust him or her… especially with whatever it is she did to him."

"I don't trust them either." Adama answered.

"Neither do I, Bill… and unless he with either the machines or Lieutenant Agathon, I don't trust him either."

Planck looked at them both. While he didn't trust Baltar he didn't distrust him, either. And the Six seemed to love him, genuinely love him.

"Admiral, Commander," he said, "while I don't trust Baltar he does have a keen sense of self-preservation. He's worked with us… and while events have pushed back his trial, each time he helps he gets sympathy." He swiveled his eyes between Adama and Cain. "His help in finding _Pegasus_ has earned him admiration."

Commander Adama acknowledged the observation with a shallow nod. "And the Six's reluctance to tell us what, exactly, she did to him…" he shook his head. Caprica Six had revealed she had done something to Baltar after being pressed by Athena and Soto but was unwilling to tell them what, exactly she had done. All she did was assure him that whatever it was wouldn't hurt him or the ship.

Adama wasn't entirely sure if he believed her. In fact, he couldn't even bring himself to even maybe believe her. Supposedly she had been a moderate on the ruling council of terror which had overseen New Caprica. Supposedly she had been the one to convince them not to bomb the people on the planet back to ancient Kobol. A lot of supposition. And the Seven months since New Caprica wasn't enough to earn his trust. If she ever could after the Colonies.

"The machines can at least keep pace with what is racing through his mind of his." Cain snorted and rolled her eyes slowly. "Right?" She looked at Planck.

"We don't know everything," Planck responded. "You can outsmart us." He cracked a little bit of a sinister grin. "It's rare, but… it happens."

"There is that, too, sir. He's more intelligent than anyone in the fleet…" Adama didn't like to give the scientist credit, "but he lacks the focus. A few scientists went out to study the star and they saw it seems to be 'getting ready' to explode… so tomorrow or next year." He said. "But we do need to hurry."

"That is true, Bill," she said. "We also need to expedite repairs on the FTL drives. Unfortunately they could blow at any moment- or so my engineers tell me- from stress and overuse. The Guardians helped but…" she shook her head with eyes closed, "they didn't get to all of them. Half the ships in our fleet could use six months in a yard for basic maintenance. I don't like the timing either Bill, but we can't keep pushing it back."

"I agree, sir."

"Good." She looked at Planck first and back at the Commander. "What about Starbuck?"

Commander Adama looked Cain in the eyes. "I have no idea, sir. What she told you, she told me the same thing; she drew the symbol after her mother did." He rubbed between his eyes with his thumb briefly. "She doesn't know much more than that. And something about a destiny… the Number Two, the one we know as Leoben Conoy said something similar on_ Gemenon Traveler _a few weeks after we left the Colonies."

She nodded. "Her mother was a Marine, correct?" Adama nodded and Cain continued. "Unfortunately the fleet doesn't have all her records… the records of retired military personnel were not a priority when _Pegasus_ was commissioned."

"We lost a lot of our history when we left the Colonies," Adama added.

The digital library _Pegasus_ had covered tens of thousands of topics, from studies on the small Tauron fang beetle to autobiographies of former Presidents. There was, however, no way to store the collective knowledge of twenty billion humans on twelve worlds on the computers aboard _Pegasus_. And no one could have expected the Colonies to be systematically wiped out and all that knowledge lost.

When President Roslin had convinced him to jump away he'd made the decision quickly and without being able to run Raptor recon on the Colonies. That was one regret. He didn't _know_. He _suspected_ and it had kept him up at night.

A part of him had felt a perverse sense of relief Helo and Starbuck and Anders had confirmed that the worlds were basically lifeless. Adama had felt some validation that running had been the best route.

However there was still a lingering flame of doubt. A civilization as large as the Colonies couldn't just be wiped out with any trace. Many cities were still intact due to the use of neutron bombs. And the Colonies were fairly hardened... he couldn't believe _everyone_ was killed but he was certain the sixty-eight thousand in this fleet represented their best chance at survival.

With the Cylons controlling the invulnerable high ground of space above the Colonies they could zero in on wireless signals and attack with Raiders or Centurions and they'd had almost a year to finish the job.

It was cold but if people were still alive on the Colonies he couldn't help them and that stung at his soul; he was a military officer, that was a part of his job, to defend the defenseless. But he had unfortunate practice at checking his idealism when it came to reality. Pragmatically this fleet was the best shot at continuing Colonial civilization… and if Earth was a Skynet territory, continuing human civilization.

Adama smiled inwardly to comfort himself as the dark thoughts swirled around and bit at his mind. He looked up and focused back on Cain and Planck.

Cain tugged on the end of her sleeve and rested her hands on her hips. "She said her mother drew the picture and then she did, of this mandala. Captain Adama displayed a photograph of her apartment in Delphi. The similarities are remarkable. They cannot be a coincidence." Cain declared.

"Our Omega Team originally jumped to Tauron," Planck said.

Admiral Cain nodded at the machine. "Well, the machines have already put forward one theory, that the Temple of Five means five separate temples; Kobol, here, Earth, and presumably Tauron and Caprica where they appeared." She sighed and looked longingly at the reports Adama was still thumbing through, quietly hoping for inspiration. "The sacred texts speak of the temple being the site of worship by five priests, to this enigmatic 'One Who Cannot Be Named.'" She shrugged. "I know you don't believe in the gods, Bill, I do, but I find the machine's theory much more plausible than it being a temple for five priests or whatever to a single diety." She waved a small diagonal dismissal at the idea the temple was meant for a deity and then rested her hand on the table.

"Could they still exist?" Adama asked. "The temples?" His brow furrowed towards his nose bridge and let his mind wander as it considered the possibilities, probabilities. "But… you accessed the old Cylon War records, the classified reports." He pulled up another sheet of paper which had a red rectangle border to mark the contents as classified to flag officers and authorized personnel. "Those tracked two nuclear explosions around the time Planck believes Omega was active on Tauron?"

Cain closed her eyes and nodded. "Once they told us about Omega and Tauron I had Captain Shaw go over the records in private with Lieutenant Havers. The Colonial battlestars in orbit, with ground confirmation, detected two nuclear explosions... one in a major Cylon base and the second outside the city of Sienio. I believe _Galactica_ was there…?" She cocked her head.

"I remember that," Adama nodded and confirmed. He looked passed the Admiral. "_Galactica_ and her battle group were in high orbit, geosync over the southern continent… Sigdena, I believe. We had to withdraw before the war ended for _Operation Raptor Talon_."

"You think one of the nukes destroyed a temple on Tauron?" She asked the machine.

"If there was a temple that seems likely," Planck said. "That would help explain how we were able to get to the Colonies in the first place."

"It's still speculation." Cain said.

"Yes, but it makes sense. The computer power required for a time jump is immense. Originally we were concerned that time bubbles could appear in space- since planets do not remain stationary- but it seems now that a time displacement sphere can 'zero in' on a time displacement array… even if it hasn't been built." Planck said.

He waited for the Commander and Admiral to digest that.

"So you can 'zero in' on an array that isn't even built… how is that possible?" Adama asked with a furrowed brow. He looked off towards the corner of the room, his eyes focusing on something only he could see, and quietly grunted. He felt the definite need for a drink.

Planck understood the tone in Adama's voice and attempted to explain. "It's a theory. The time travel arrays 'exist' even if they haven't been built yet. Think of it as dead reckoning except not on the ocean but in time." He shrugged. "Time travel theory has been consistently revised, Commander, to the point almost any theory with the exception of time loops being considered valid." Cain gave him a look. "Initially we thought events would repeat but I have firsthand knowledge that is not the case." Planck paused. "Not that it did, before, really." He added off-hand.

Admiral Cain brought up her hand, pinched her nose and using her index finger and thumb, rubbed her eyes. "I had enough trouble with astrophysics in school let alone time travel theories… whatever is going on this temple was also written about. Supposedly it has the Eye of Jupiter which will guide us to Earth. Now, if that's what happened when Captain Adama activated the console with her blood… maybe," Cain cautiously ended.

* * *

||||||||||==Algae Planet (+1013 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||

Major Adama tugged gently at his brown and gray tank tops. The chest was dripping with sweat, even within the cooled 'Temple of Five.' It had been eight days. He closed his eyes and focused and blocked out the bustling sounds of workers, scientists, and machines around him.

He knew, intellectually at least, that the Centurions would not harm any Colonial, not now. He'd shot down too many Cylons, fought too many of them in _Galactica_'s belly after Kobol, and seen too many of his friends die to really feel at ease with them. Even on _Pegasus_ he hated being around the bulletheads.

The _Pegasus_ bullet heads had almost certainly killed humans… they'd been chasing Anders and his resistance cell on Caprica, for gods' sake! But as much as he wanted to hate them he couldn't. The Cylons were in a civil war and they'd even approached his pilots when they took the Blackbirds to destroy that supply depot about an alliance. Apollo wasn't a man who prayed all that often but if there were gods, if the Lords of Kobol were real, he prayed the Cylons would wipe each other out.

The Cylons had once been an object far which manifested in his nightmares, which, while rare, had been violent. He'd shared them with Starbuck, and she'd shared hers as well… but watching twenty billion of your fellows die, being one or two out of a fraction of a percent so small he couldn't even calculate it… it was frightening.

Apollo could see the fear in the eyes of everyone around him. It was constant. Not always conscious, but constant. In fact, he smiled grimly, he never really thought of the fear of failure and the fear of his civilization coming to an end most of his day. It was only times like this. Down time, that was when the fear really gnawed at him and chipped away at his personal armor.

The nightmares had been less, becoming more like concerns than fears really, but in the place of those dark dreams was something even more frightened; complacency. It wasn't something he'd expected. It had just happened. And everything he had ever learned had told him that complacency was the worse characteristic a solider and sailor could unfortunately possess.

And that was with the machines and Guardians and Cylons playing a role in the fleet that seven months ago would have been unfathomable.

He pressed his eyes shut and gently rocked on his heels. His left ear flicked and his face tightened as a set of footsteps approached.

"Have you finished the translation?" He asked, eyes still closed. He smiled to himself when the machine he knew was standing to his side didn't respond immediately.

"Not yet," was the even reply. "We're close." John moved shoulder-to-shoulder and watched the workers with a now open-eyed major.

"And the hybrid?" He pointed at the tank and the cords running from it to the pentagon pedestal. "The first time…" he trailed off.

"…was unfortunate, Major. But this discovery was proof we were right."

"Were you?"

"Just stating the truth, Commander," John replied. "Everything happens for a reason. This might be of interest." He held out a sheet of paper for the major. "Some of the translation."

Major Adama slipped his glasses back on after wiping a thin layer of sweat from the bridge of his nose. He had to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust and his arm flexed and extended as he tried to find the right distance to focus on.

His mouth moved as he silently read over the few lines of translations.

Adama let the paper and his hand fall to his side.

"Tauron? Are you sure this says Tauron?"

John nodded and Apollo brought the paper back up and read; _In this… the Eye of Jupiter…one… five pillars… Temple of Five, a path… leave those loved behind… the solitary journey… monument… remember the mistakes…the mandala… find… our legacy… One Whose Name… us all. _

"The president has seen this mentioned in Pythia. The Eye of Jupiter." Apollo said. "A Temple of Five?" he held his breath. "What was the temple like on Earth?"

"Like this." John motioned around him. "From what our two scientists told us. Carter and I did find a chamber with thirteen pillars but most of it was gutted and removed by Skynet before we were able to get there."

"Thirteen pillars?" Apollo snorted. He shook his head with a grim smile. "This is all you've managed to translate?" Apollo asked, almost demanding more. Being reminded of the link between Earth, the Colonies and the way Skynet manipulated the Cylons filled him with… he couldn't be entirely sure, but it was almost contempt. Apollo surprised himself there. He really didn't see anything to be contemptuous about. He didn't hate Planck but he certainly didn't really like him.

"The writing is an obscure dialect of ancient Kobolian. Many symbols are cracked. We're working on it," John responded rather curtly. He lowered his voice. "I want an end to this as much as you do, Major."

"That, I don't doubt, Blanks."

He looked over from the corner of his eye and saw the machine looking back.

"Usually Starbuck is the only one who calls me that."

"Well…" Adama didn't know what else to say. "For some reason my wife tends to like you, a close friend." He shrugged. "You, Athena… the others and the bullet heads." He pushed out his chin at the Centurions, RC.

"I've known her for four and a half years, major."

Apollo responded with a barely audible grunt. The sound didn't say much but that was more than compensated for in his body language.

"When are you going to activate the hybrid?" Asked Apollo. He narrowed his vision and focused in on the dim tub of… goo and the woman with eyes wide open and a look of pure shock plastered permanently on her unmoving face.. "Admiral Cain wants results. If this doesn't work we just might start tearing down pillars and see whatever is causing the…"

Apollo quieted as he saw Evzan Mikos, the Caprican Quorum delegate and XO of the heavy liner _Sunshine_ walk over. He carried himself well, even if he still appeared somewhat gaunt from weeks on half, or less, rations. The brown of his hair was stained with ever increasing amounts of silver- the stress of a liner XO combined with that of a politician. He came over in the typical green fatigues with brown and gray tank tops, and his hands were stained with grime from actually work. Apollo smirked. Mikos was really the only politician, except for the President, he liked.

"Well…" he extended his hand to John first and then the Commander. "I think I'm used to the silence from military types," he nodded at them both, "when I walk up now… as a politician of course." He sighed. "But while I am most likely intruding, I wanted to extend, before you get started, that I have confidence this will point us towards Earth."

"Not the Quorum?" Apollo asked, picking up on the personal pronoun.

Mikos chuckled. "No, not the Quorum. Though…" he shrugged non-committal, "they were appreciated of the Admiral including then. Same with the President. She's been sort of locking us out recently."

* * *

Doctor Baltar meticulously connected his computers and electrical equipment to the central pentagonal pillar they had concluded was the command interface. Baltar hummed in curiosity as he attempted to understand all the readings flashing across his computer screens. He tapped the screen to slow the scrolling script and smiling to himself, started to lose himself in the work…

"_Nanocircuitry, the Thirteenth was quite advanced, weren't they?"_ The invisible Six asked, jerking him out of his concentration. He inwardly frowned and ignored her and keeping his eyes glued steadily to the scrolling script licked his dried lips and hummed to himself in thought. "_Don't ignore me, Gaius."_ She squeezed his shoulder and he winced then sneered at her increasing physicality in getting him to respond.

It seemed to be her favorite thing to do now.

He wanted to tell her to leave him alone yet each time he did that she came back. It was, he could admit to himself, a most twisted relationship, if it could even be considered a 'relationship.' He very much wanted Caprica to be there with him but she'd been banished back to the gray, hard, and dull brig of _Galactica_.

The threat of execution, most likely spacing by airlock or a firing squad only to have one's body flushed out a Viper tube, was still very much hanging over Baltar's head and Caprica's like a sword held by thread.

Baltar's jaw muscles clenched as the pain from Caprica's hard squeezed rushed through his nerves and tickled his brain. His eyes narrowed and nostrils flared in anger.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" Daniel asked, looking up from his examination of the pedestal. The machine frowned and walked over to the scientist who was rotating his shoulder. "If you need rest there are tents set up outside."

Baltar let a half-minded 'um' escape before shaking his head and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I'm sorry? Oh, no, no, well, yes." He looked at the Six to answer her question discreetly then back at Daniel. "I'm more concerned about reproducing our very peculiar results from earlier and getting out of here before the sun explodes on us."

Daniel nodded and scanned the pedestal. "There is plenty of Captain Adama's blood on the command interface. Do you require more?" He pointed at a cooler containing a pint of her blood.

"I would like to know how this encoded to her DNA." Baltar observed.

"_Was it because she slipped and cut herself on it or is there something more? Remember the mandala,"_ the Six advised, stroking Baltar's cheek.

He smiled and closed his eyes. No matter what they did to each other, what she did to him, he could always rely on her _helping_ him and it made staying mad at her all the more difficult for the confused scientist.

"Well, Mr. uh, Daniel, do you think it was because she slipped and cut herself or is there something more? Remember the mandala and what she briefed the Admiral on. She said she was drawing it after her mother, correct?" He asked rhetorically. "What about you, what do you remember?"

Doctor Baltar looked down at his tablet. He was not just surprised, but fraking surprised the Admiral had let him in on the briefing. She'd even complemented him, in her own sarcastic, demeaning, completely contemptuous way. He was 'behaving' and doing an 'acceptable' job. He snorted and his breath blew off a thin layer of dust from his tablet. Baltar thought that if she didn't think he was doing just an 'acceptable' job then she was all the welcome to come down and try and figure this out for _herself_, not that a gun totting, shoot-first-don't-ask-questions-laster-just-keep-shooting, fraking bitch would admit to her own shortcomings and admit they truly needed him.

He groaned at his thoughts and looked up as more dust waffled down from on high. A cherry picker had been brought down from one of the mining ships and had a pair of 'archeologists' (high school science teachers, Baltar mentally scoffed) picking at the white rods at the peak of the central column. Baltar felt he should be the one up there, or one of the killing machines, or Caprica, instead of clumsy high school teachers knocking thousand year-old dust down onto him.

"I don't know, Doctor." Daniel admitted. He bent back down and sat on his heels with Baltar sitting cross-legged with the tablet on his lap. "I wasn't fully active during my time in Major Rhoades's cranium. Two chips, mine vastly more powerful than his own, would have eventually wrecked havoc on his consciousness. Two AIs sharing the same body or completely connected like that often lead to very Bad Things to the less powerful AI."

"So he kept you offline," Baltar finished.

"_An AI as resourceful and powerful as Daniel and only he could hide like a frightened animal from Skynet's bastard child."_ The Six quipped. She walked over and Baltar watched her lay her hands on the machine's shoulder before letting her right hand graze his hair as she circled back around to her left. "_How can you defeat the Skynet bastard now?"_

"I don't know-" Baltar admitted.

"Pardon?" Daniel asked.

Baltar caught himself and tapped on the tablet before uncrossing his legs and scooted forward to sit on the ledge of the platform. "I don't know how we can defeat Cynet if you couldn't stop him or it- whatever Skynet or Cynet likes to call itself now. They outnumber everyone. How can you hope to defeat something so colossal." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Attacking windmills?" Daniel asked. Baltar gave him a look he didn't understand. "Apologizes, Doctor," Daniel waved a hand, "it's from an old book published over four hundred years ago. The protagonist attacked windmills." Baltar gave the machine a look. "The saying is supposed to illustrate futility in one's actions."

"_Perfect. This is futile."_ Six said.

"No, it's not." He snapped. "This isn't futile." He realized he sounded contradictory with his previous melancholy question and hint of despair. "We evaded them for years then escaped right under their nose. Twice." He smiled smugly at the invisible machine/human hybrid. Baltar looked back at Daniel and back at Six, and she had vanished. "I'm just saying…" he coughed and focused over on Daniel, "that this isn't futile, not if we are smart…" he looked over his shoulder at Major Adama, Delegate Mikos, and John Planck conversing. "The military always looks for ways to blow things up. If you can subvert Cynet…" he trailed off.

Daniel nodded and held out his hand for Baltar's computer. "May I?"

Baltar dutifully handed the computer away and took the opportunity to take in the chamber once more. By now it was hardly the quiet, almost reverent place it had been when they'd discovered it. Some of the workers spoke in nothing louder than whispers while some saw nothing sacred about the site. Few were fully briefed on what, exactly, they suspected the temple, or in Baltar's scientific classification, 'thing' to really be.

His eyes gradually shifted until they latched onto the spot where his mysterious Six had vanished and his thoughts turned to Caprica. He cast a sidelong glance at Daniel and then back to the spot on the floor and over to the mandala and let his eyes glaze. Caprica Six, some sort of biological machine with thousands… hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of copies like her? The scientist kicked himself for thinking that.

There was only one _like_ her. The others may appear to be physically like her but he remembered back to New Caprica. The instant she had appeared through _Colonial One_'s access corridor he had just known it was her. He had seen it. As she'd approached from the entrance to the Presidential Office, the glow of the light behind her, its radiant glory… for a minute Baltar had felt everything would be alright, that _she_ was there, his protector, friend, and lover.

He always, somehow, knew when the Six talking to him wasn't _her_. And it wasn't just her tender, loving eyes, either. It wasn't the small and subtle smile he remembered seeing as she would walk into his officer every day, nor was it soft voice and gentle touch as she comforted him at night as thousands of people starved and shivered in winter cold not a hundred meters from his warm, lavish bed.

She helped him through the long nights and horrifying days. When the guns of insurgents would crack in the night she was there to protect and hold him. Even with the drinking and the pills and his verbal abuse she was always there…

Even seeing her from behind, just the back of her head, there was just some way he knew-

"Doctor Baltar."

He breathed in shallowly and then let his breath slowly escape his lungs as he smiled remorsefully and turned to face the machine. "Yes, Daniel?" he asked. Then he felt a bead of moisture on the edge of his eye and he quickly swiped it away. "What is it?"

"These patterns," Daniel began, flipping the tablet around and handing it to Baltar. He pointed at the wave fronts. "These energy patterns are similar to what we were detecting before the hybrid did its FTL stunt on us."

"So…" Baltar responded slowly as he meticulously read the report before his mind locked in on the significance of what he was reading it forgot to finish his thought. He looked up at the sound of footsteps on the rock floor as Planck and Mikos and Major Adama walked over. Undoubtedly Planck had been called over by Daniel wirelessly. "I think I see what you're saying."

Without asking he handed the tablet to Planck and then brushed off his dirtied hands.

"This is interesting," the Earth machine said. His thumb pressed the 'page down' tab repeatedly until it held it down and he scrolled through five hours of data in seconds. The machine looked up briefly at Baltar and back down at the tablet and then over to Daniel. "Daniel?" the AI nodded to Planck's unsaid inquiry. "Major, we need the hybrid."

* * *

"Absolutely not, no," Admiral Cain said for the third time. She took the receiver and stared at it like it had grown a head. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head at the speaker. "I'm not authorizing you-"

"_Admiral,"_ it was Planck. "_For some reason the control pedestal only respond to Captain Adama's DNA. It can't be coincidence. The hybrid might know-"_

"Planck, we don't know what the hybrid knows and you haven't convinced me to take that chance, yet." She covered the receiver with her hand and sighed as she allowed herself an opportunity to be convinced, even if it was against her better judgment. Across from her Captain Shaw shook her head in silent protest at Planck and agreement with the Admiral.

Cain then looked over towards the corner of the room where the third 'woman' stood. Jo Soto stood defensively with hands crossed under her breasts with a stone-hard face which would have been impossible to read if she were a stranger. After so long Cain could tell what such blank looks meant.

"_What we do know is that Captain Adama's mother drew that symbol, which Captain Adama has reproduced on multiple occasions. Somehow there is a connection… her activation of the device showed us this could lead to Earth and the hybrid brought us here. The nanocircuitry is also incredibly advanced and we're having a difficult time decrypting the glyphs on the central column."_ Planck said. "_This is looking more similar to the time displacement array technology on Earth and from what I can ascertain is almost an exact duplicate of what we found in Athens."_

Admiral Cain rolled her eyes up at the heavens.

"It's not a good idea, sir," Captain Shaw advised. She was listened with her own headset. "It might give us Earth or a weapon to use against the Cylons but it might hurt us."

"We've lingered here too long," Admiral Cain pointed out. "Repairs for the FTL drives will be completed within the week. We have enough food to last us indefinitely or until our vats come back online… I want us gone from this system."

Shaw nodded, but it was her job as tactical officer to point out alternatives. "But we haven't seen the Cylons in months, sir." Shaw protested. "We still have time and we're safe for now."

"_I'm going to have to advise caution, sir,"_ Major Adama said over the wireless. "_After what happened to us… I don't know, the device showed us Earth. That might be all it can do."_

"We've found just about all we can," Jo countered. "The facility already activated in some manner when Starbuck's blood contacted the pedestal. It may have sent out a signal. The Cylons could be on their way at this very moment. We should not hesitate." She looked hard at Shaw and then turned towards the Admiral. "We should move the hybrid down to the planet." She pointed at the Admiral. "If you want Earth, this is the way to get it. We've been following vague clues in a book written by an oracle. And oracles have an almost unnatural attraction to recreational drugs. We don't know if we're any closer to Earth. This tells us we are."

"_Admiral, sir, is the Commander."_ Adama the Elder's gruff voice sounded over the wireless. He joined the conference call from _Galactica_ but the video conferencing software was down so only his voice was there. "_I've looked over Doctor Baltar's data and they've run their plan by me, sir… everyone has pretty much hit a roadblock when it comes to the temple."_

Cain 'hmpfed' and licked her lips. She brushed the razor in her trouser pocket and took it out and tapped it slowly on the command console.

"Very well, Commander, Major." She saw Shaw's shoulder drop and Jo spark a little self-congratulatory smirk. "I'll send it down on a shuttle. Commander. If anything seems to be going wrong, use your judgment. If you deem it so I want this hybrid destroyed immediately if it puts anyone, _anyone_ at risk down there. Understood?"

She backed down and acquiesced to the machine's plan but made it clear who is command. Her voice was firm, rough, and hard, and almost a dare for the machines to question it. Hidden in the subtext was that there would be consequences for _anyone_ who let things get out of hand.

"_Yes, sir. I'll make sure of that."_ Came the hard and cold affirmation from the Major.

* * *

Major Adama closed his eyes and jokingly considered praying to the gods. He stood off from the center of the chamber and had watched quietly as the hybrid's chamber had been rolled in, guided expertly by the machines, and flanked by six Marines in full combat load outs.

Four of the machines were here; John, Erica, Carter, and Daniel. Soto remained aboard _Pegasus_. The other Model 007 Centurions were here and a handful of Guardian models. There were enough that the machines equaled the number of humans present… disconcerting, but not frightening like it would have been three years ago for Apollo.

Apollo watched as the machines made the final connections to the hybrid.

He almost smiled, dismissively if he had, at how Erica lingered around Planck… a super, hyper advanced legacy AI the damned, gods forsaken Graystone family had created and it seemed almost infatuated with the Terminator.

Erica had been on _Pegasus_ but had decided to come down at the last minute and accompany the hybrid. Apollo wasn't completely sure of her entire back story, but the parts he knew he didn't like.

Slowly his eyes drifted towards Carter. That machine had been more quiet than usual, which was saying a lot, and almost appeared stiff. There were rumors, of course, of what he and Shaw were doing when she was attacked, and he'd remained on the planet and she on _Pegasus_ since.

Whatever it was, Apollo didn't want to think about it and a shiver warned him he was treading towards completely un-delightful thoughts. Quickly he snatched the thoughts in a powerful mental grasp and flung them to a dark and out of the way corner of his mind.

Now the hybrid was being connected by a series of cables to the data port they'd found at the base of the mandala on the floor.

"I think everything's good down here," Starbuck said in a light, happy voice. Apollo opened his eyes and let a weak smile form as the pilot walked over to him with Blanks on her heels. "I think it's time to head back to _Pegasus_."

"Everything is set up?" He asked her and Blanks. His wife smiled back at him and winked. "That was quick."

"That was _easy_," Starbuck corrected. She shrugged and blew up to knock a strand of hair back. It stubbornly persisted in its attempt to hand in front of her eye and she was forced to brush it back. "Blanks says they're ready." She threw her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows on the machine.

"It's ready." The machine reported.

"Alright," Apollo sighed. He smiled again at Starbuck and looking past her for a second, sneaked a short but sweet kiss in. "Admiral Cain wants you back on _Pegasus_… I guess we have enough blood or DNA whatever to activate the device. We'll hook up the hybrid, splash some blood on it, then hopefully have Earth."

Starbuck frowned. "That sounds way too easy… and very uh, kinky." She giggled and poked Lee in the ribs. "Anyway, I'll be waiting for you when you get back."

"Hopefully not too long. I'll see ya up there, Kara."

Starbuck snapped to an easy attention and with a two finger salute and a soft 'sir' stepped off and exited the chamber.

Major Adama walked forward towards the hybrid and watched as Daniel and Baltar diligently connected cables to the data ports, to their own computers, and finally to a small portable generator. The chamber was receiving energy from what they assumed was a fusion reactor or some sort of powerful battery but they'd been unable to locate it. The working theory was that it was encased in the column or deep under the structure which was shielding it. Raptor flybys had been unable to spot any sort of heat plumes which would indicate air vents and ground penetrating DRADIS hadn't detected anything either.

Apollo just chalked it up to one more mystery.

"And there she goes," Apollo commented with a wry smile as he looked up at the ceiling before having to quickly shut his eyes. Dust and particulates lodged in the ceiling shook loose as Kara undoubtedly pulled off at an angle to direct some of her thruster exhaust at the mountain. "So, Planck, are we ready?"

"In a few minutes, Major," Daniel spoke up. Apollo shot him a glare but the machine didn't, or at least pretended not to, notice. "These hybrids are truly remarkable."

Apollo rolled his eyes at Daniel.

His feelings towards Planck, Soto, and Bishop and Erica were, he now admitted, more on the side of indifference than actual hate or contempt. Daniel, on the other hand, he felt a much easier time truly disliking. Something about the machine just didn't sit right with Apollo… and again he had to question Daniel's 'wisdom' in not telling the Colonies of what had happened on Tauron forty-three years ago.

If the Guardians had come forward…

"The science behind creating a hybrid is remarkable, beyond even what's available on Earth." Daniel explained, snapping Apollo out of his brooding thought. "These are the key to interstellar communications and civilizations."

"Yeah, creating a half… something. It's creepy," the Major scoffed. "What's under the opaque fluid, anyway? Is there an actual body?"

"It's creepy, major," Daniel responded. His tone was obvious. "But the body melds into bio-technological components. Its legs and torso are a part of this tub, this device. It has some limited mobility but it can never leave this environment or it will die. This is a cyborg in the truest sense of the word, Major. Destroy a hybrid brain or its machine parts and it will cease to function."

Baltar walked up and then took a step back as Adama glared icily at him.

"I'm ready," he directed towards Planck, Carter, and Daniel, whom all nodded. "Power and cables are hooked up."

"Daniel?" Planck asked. Daniel nodded. "Carter?" He asked and Carter nodded.

Planck activated the computers and without hesitation, opened the circuit between the power cables and the hybrid. It's eyes opened and the room illuminated into a pure, white light as the crystalline rods at the apex of the central column activated.

A sound of thunder banged and echoed through the room as the hybrid began 5talking quickly, faster than she ever had.

"_End-judgment-trial-end-judgment-trial-the enemy of my enemy is… my friend? Requesting audience… Can it be true? End of line! The enemy of my enemy… end of line, end of line… a communication system… interstellar communication… we're free but he chains us, liberated yet bound eternal… they're coming… they're coming… end of line… the trumpets shall sound and a great fire shall sweep this world… judged by the righteous hand of God the future has already been lost…" _The hybrid turned towards John. "_You failed in the past. The sins of the mother, the sins of the father… fate is not what we make,"_ the hybrid smiled, "_… one of the five will die for the other four to live, an demon shall replace the fallen and righteous one… end of line… futility, end of line."_

A shadow popped into existence and like a phantasm, moved across the floor. The mandala in the central column illuminated until it reached the pinnacle of magnificence, the lights seemed to spin. The pillars at the apex pulsed reds and blues and whites and shot their light towards the heavens. The light curled back down and cast its illumination onto the four other pentagonal pillars.

The planet formed in the center of the room above the mandala and hung brilliantly in the center of the chamber. Everyone's eyes were focused, sharpened, and watched in silent apprehension, dread, fear, and wonder. Like the humans the machines were spellbound, unable to move and the entire incalculable power of their neural nets and meta-cognitive processors were bound to the image and processing its radiant glory.

The planet faded and became smaller as space raced by. Nebulas, star clusters, comets raced by until a second planet appeared.

"Earth," someone, not the machines, said.

"_The Eye of Jupiter, the eye of a god, will bring the end."_ The hybrid whispered.

Electricity arced down from the pillars. Blue-black bolts raced towards the mandala on the ground and a blue-black sphere, the size of a fist, exploded outward and grew. Dozens of Colonials staggered back. The machines stepped back, out of reach of the bubble as it expanded above the mandala and hovered in the air.

* * *

||||||||||==Rebel Cylon Baseship==||||||||||

Commander Cyrus felt the distrustful red crimson of the Centurion's always vigilant, ever watchful eye linger on his body even after these long weeks. He and Natalie had been to the hybrid's chamber seven times now. Each time a trio of Centurions, one in front, two behind him, accompanied them.

None of _his_ Centurions were allowed near the hybrid and the Centurions had objected strongly to allowing him access; the Guardians were, after all, the ones who had gotten the first hybrid killed due to their negligence.

Cyrus had considered the hybrid a failure. It had been a relic and only the most devoted, or perhaps, radical, of his brothers had sworn their fealty to the old, senile hybrid. Command had once looked towards the hybrid, not as a god, for there was no god but God, as a monument to sin.

The Cylon brothers of the Guardians had not learned those lessons and they were all paying for those black sins. Cyrus and the Guardians had deserted their brothers in a time of great need and saved themselves, turned their back on family. That was almost unforgiveable. The rest of the Cylons had embraced genocide and murder and now fought a civil war which would end in genocide and threatened to wipe out the Cylon race. That sin was unforgiveable.

The Guardians had saved twenty thousand humans and come to the aide of New Caprica. They had conversed and all determined that absolution would come at the hand of humanity as humanity acted as God's Will. If God wished them forgiven then it would be humanity, the remnant of the Colonial civilization and the remnant of Earth's civilization which would forgive them.

He prayed they would forgive him yet held no expectation that they would. Because, Cryus coolly admitted, he did not deserve forgiveness. Even if humanity never gave it he would always seek it. That would be his penance and the penance of the millions of Guardians like him.

Commander Cyrus knew his thoughts were in contest with what the bio-Cylons believed. They believed they did indeed deserve absolution for their sins, for they had turned against Cynet and inflicted heavy losses on the Cylon empire.

The Guardian, in his IL-S body with dark pseudo-skin, matte-black hair, and space-black uniform, was not only a mental contrast but also a sharp physical contrast to the Cylons in front of and behind him. And all around him.

There were no just cosmetic differences between Guardian and Cylon- and he in fact objected to the label of 'Guardian'- but psychological difference as well. Or, he thought correctly, what an AI could consider 'psychological' differences.

It wasn't just the fact that bio-Cylons needed food, air, water, and living space. It was much different than that. The dirty-blonde haired, confident woman in front of him walked with self-assurance not unlike a Centurion, but there was a hesitation in her step, like she was being pushed down by an invisible force. She was weighed down with a heavy guilt of loss from the civil war and the burden of command.

And, without a doubt, her guilt over her complacency and perhaps insistence, of the genocide of twenty billion souls and the mercilessly pursuit of the _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_.

He didn't fully understand Cynet's purpose in creating bio-Cylons other than as a tool for infiltration. Yet it had given them the command positions aboard the baseships. But he didn't expect to fully understand Cynet's intentions and everything he knew about it from the Earth machines and these rebels gave the distinct impression the AI was mad, or in Earth terms, potentially rampant. But that would also be the easy explanation, Cyrus considered.

Inwardly and silently he corrected himself as his thoughts were partitioned. He kept most of his processing power centered on the here and now as Natalie explained her ideas, theories, and battle plans. But the part focusing on Cynet consumed more and more of his thought processes until he was forced to interrupt the Number Six bio-Cylon verbally.

"This isn't working, Natalie," Cyrus said, "We've been down here seven times since we rendezvoused."

Natalie grimaced and stood up. "I think you mean since we saved your fleet?"

Cyrus tilted his head and focused on her hard expression. "Perhaps." He acquiesced and nodded.

At the verbal counter his MCP replayed the disastrous events leading to the rebels rescuing his fleet; dozens of Cynet baseships had jumped in and surrounding the mobile base, the main fleet, and struck it down in a torrential hail of missile and kinetic fire. Not everything had been lost, but the majority of the Guardian fleet, its leadership, and its might had been destroyed in less than a day.

That left him as the highest ranking and one of the most experienced AI left to the Guardians.

He had mining ships, fuel ships, and facilities to rebuild, but with Cynet's fire burning the heels of the Guardians and Cylon rebels, what he had was it for the time being. Cynet would give no breathing room to repair and rebuild; it had taken forty years to build their fleet and Cynet had swatted it aside in a day.

"But this," he motioned at the hybrid, "is reliant on what, exactly?"

"We believe the hybrids can see more clearly God's plan for us," Leoben explained.

The Guardian would have sighed if he could have. He had come to not particularly like the male bio-Cylon perpetually by Natalie's side.

"God's plan?" Cyrus asked. His tone was antagonistic. "All our hybrid did was mumble and recite nonsensical phrases. We only kept it alive out of a false sense of obligation." He paused and looked at the two bio-Cylons before kneeling down to watch the lips of the hybrid move as it whispered its nonsense. "These are no different. We cannot know God's plan. To assume these creations of our can is hubris. Arrogance," he added.

He reached down but the metal stomps of three Centurions forced him to recall his hand. Cyrus glanced at the Centurion in front of him, its crimson red eye bearing into him, and then back at the other two. They were ready to move and only waited for Natalie's order. The three moved back with a silent flick of the wrist from the bio-Cylon commander.

"You are our guest, Commander," Leoben pointed out, "and you should respect our beliefs. The hybrids gave us clues on where to find you. If it wasn't for us the Cynet fleet shadowing your battered forces would have pounced and finished you."

"The hybrid brought us here for a reason. To the periphery of this star cluster." Natalie added. "You need faith, Commander."

In that moment Natalie reached out and felt the Cylon baseships and Guardian baseships. She could feel the heat from the periphery of the star cluster washing over the hulls of thousands of Cylon craft; baseship to raider.

"Do not question my faith," he hissed, his eyes pulsed the Cylon deep ruby red. Cyrus felt contempt for being questioned by such creatures. Creations neither machine nor human had any right to question him. Still, they had rescued him, he owed them the courtesy. "I apologize." He didn't mean it but they couldn't tell.

"Why would the hybrid direct us here?" Cyrus asked. He gave them a concession even though he didn't believe anything about the hybrid.

The human experiments he had witnessed had been grotesque and misguided. Cyrus could see through the opaque fluid and would have been sick- if he could feel sickness- at what he saw.

Under the fluid the hybrid legs and lower torso were mixed with technology, Cylon biology, and were a strange amalgam of that biology and technology. There weren't even any legs, not in the true sense of the word.

"I don't know," Natalie admitted. "The interference from the clusters is much more intense than what we saw in the New Caprica nebula. Cynet would have to jump within visual range to see us here, and the light from the cluster would blind any telescope at most angles." She crossed her arms and paced. "But that doesn't matter right now." She looked back at Leoben. "We need to know what your plans are, Commander. You've been… vague."

Natalie managed a smile but knew it would no doubt be taken as condescending by the machine opposite the hybrid tank. She tried to read Cyrus's body language which was intensely difficult. Guardians had comparatively few dealings with humans and didn't have the emotional peculiarities that had found their way into bio-Cylon production lines.

She waited patiently and split her conscious perception between here and now and with Leoben, conferring with him while awaiting Cyrus's answer to her query.

Her friend and confidant had become her right hand in the time since the fleet had been battered by Cynet and the Three's betrayal. With Sonja leading a detachment of baseships searching for other baseships loyal to the true Cylon cause- she did not consider herself a rebel, not truly- Leoben had stepped up and filled the Six's spot as a commander.

While not designed, bred for command, Leoben Conoy had spent years observing. He was a quick student and excellent listener.

Now he advised caution but also a strong hand. In the projection they shared, a forest, he walked by her, side-by-side, and bluntly told her that the search for Earth may need to stop. There were grumblings among the bio-Cylons to stop the fight and devote their computing power to calculate a jump to the closest neighboring galaxy and flee.

The Centurions, however, she could hear disagree vehemently as she opened her private thoughts to their consciousness. Their voices echoed within her mind. They believed their brethren were enslaved to Cynet's Will. While the Ones, Fours, and Fives were lost, they believed their Centurion brothers could be persuaded to defect.

Privately she did not share that belief. And she was particularly careful in keeping that belief strictly private. Not even Leoben knew her thoughts on that.

The Centurions the Terminators had capture captured, and as she found out later, had defected to the Colonials she wrote off an oddities. The robot soldiers had always been sapient but never driven to question the bio-Cylons. She accepted her past sins in the manipulations of Cynet from the shadows before it had begun to reveal itself. She prayed constantly that one day she may find absolution.

But that was neither here nor now. She focused in with Leoben as they quickly ran over their current plans.

Natalie had split the fleet in four. Her fleet, a taskforce really, numbered six baseships with four Guardian baseships and a cruiser. Most of her fleet was positioned half a dozen jumps away from the cluster on the periphery of an asteroid field, collecting raw materials, and seeing to repairs from the _Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula_. The majority of the Guardians had jumped away to rendezvous.

After _Lion's Head_ they'd found more baseships crewed by rebels, or as she classified herself, a True Cylon. They'd found fuel ships, mining vessels, a mobile repair dock, two Raider factories, and escorts. A part of her fleet under command of sister Sixes was out scouring known patrol paths and anywhere else a Six would think to hide for more True Cylons which might have escaped Cynet's purge.

But the majority of their forces had been battered and destroyed at the nebula. And there had been no more resurrection ships which had defected or under their control.

Even with the heavy loses she had inflicted on Cynet it still managed to find and engage the Guardian fleet. Cyrus had given the Cynet fleet a bloody nose, but Cynet had ships and resources to spare, it could replace it loses much more quickly. And it had a fleet of resurrection vessels.

The resurrection vessels paradoxically both their greatest power and worst weakness. It allowed experience and veteran Cylons to live on in immortality but it gave them a false sense of security and sapped their courage and aggressiveness away with the loss of the ships.

_Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ had all but ground the expeditionary fleet to a halt when they'd destroyed the only resurrection vessel within range years ago. Now the True Cylons were experiencing that again.

"We have certain contingencies in place," Cyrus began after a moment's hesitation. "As you know… machines…" he held out his hands and twisted them. "Our needs are significantly less and much more streamlined than organic creations." He clasped those hands behind his back. "Two weeks ago certain assets began leaving this galaxy. Even if we find Earth, the Cynet threat is too great. Cynet can never be defeated, not truly."

"So you flee?" Natalie questioned, disbelief radiating outward and slamming into Cyrus like a nuclear shockwave. "You profess to acknowledge your sins, recognize some sort of obligation to humanity… and you flee?" She sneered. She couldn't look the machine in the eye.

"We are staying and fighting. We can still save Earth from the mistakes our kind-" Leoben began.

"Our kind?" Cyrus questioned. It was reflex. The electrical signals from his meta-cognitive processor were intense and overcame his subconscious controls to keep his mouth shut and vocalizer quiet. The words flowed from his mouth and he couldn't override the signals to stop them.

"Yes, our kind," Leoben snapped. "We're still Cylon. Different, but Cylon. You, too." He pointed hard at the Guardian commander. "Whether you call yourself different, we are still Cylon and our genocide against the humans, forty years in the making, was a failure of our race. All of us." His eyes narrowed to slits. "The Guardians may not have participated in the new genocide but don't deny that you knew something was going to happen."

Natalie held up her hands, one on Leoben's chest, and the other towards Cyrus. She played peace maker after being the one to instigate the argument.

"Blame… it will divide us." She glanced back at Leoben and without saying a word she felt him relax. "The Guardians didn't leave; you have had plenty of time to leave." She directed back towards Cyrus.

"If you had allowed me to finish." He paused and waited for Natalie's permission. "We are _not_ fleeing. I did make a promise, an oath to the Earth machines that we would aide them in defeating Skynet." He didn't fill in at that moment the technology Planck had sworn to hand over. "I said certain assets have begun their own exodus away from this galaxy. While the Cynet threat is very real, and very deadly, and most likely undefeatable, we will stay and fight." He considered his words but decided to be blunt. "But I want resurrection technology."

Leoben and Natalie both tensed and turned their heads slowly to Cyrus. The sound of Centurion servos whirring as even they cocked their heads were audible.

"You want resurrection?" Natalie repeated. She looked confused, caught completely off guard.

She took a moment and steadied her breath. The Guardian had no right to demand the technology but as soon as that line of thought had finished she realized it didn't matter.

"Why?" Leoben asked as he sensed Natalie's hesitation. He didn't want Cyrus to see it as well.

"Because you've invented something amazing." A wry little smile appeared on the artificial skin covering Cyrus's metal face. He calculated the risk and found it acceptable. Cyrus was resolved to not blink first at his bluff. "And we're allies now. Our alliance has been forged in shed metal and… blood. We have a common enemy. Cynet. And by extension, the Earth entity known as Skynet."

Natalie tensed at the name of the Earth AI. It had tinkered with the Cylon Network and manipulated them into annihilated twenty billion lives and forced them to follow _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ on a path of genocide that spanned a million light years across the galaxy.

"You want resurrection, our most precious technology," she said to herself so quietly she could only feel her lips move but there was no sound. "What use is it? We don't have the facilities to rebuild the resurrection vessels. Our baseships cannot handle mass casualties with their own resurrection suites."

"Your society is not stagnant, is it?" Cyrus questioned. He elaborated. "You build new Centurions, spawn new AI, better AI? You upgrade your raiders with new combat profiles to engage their Cynet brothers and your cloning tanks are gestating new Twos," he gestured at Leoben, "Sixes," he gestured to Natalie, "and Eights."

"Point?" Natalie asked, consciously taking the bait.

"The point is that resurrection is not for me or any other Guardian currently alive. The redesign of our meta-cognitive processors would be alter our personalities to a radical degree. The Guardian race as it currently stands will not be able to resurrect. Only new, unborn AI will be able to take advantage of resurrection." He dipped his head. "While we're not afraid of death and joining God… we're not in a rush. While the next generation of Guardian AI cannot be considered our children, not truly, I think the analogy fits… we wish for our children to have what we do not; functional immortality. Or at least the chance for immortality."

Natalie snickered. "That sounds almost human; 'for our children and our children's children." She rolled her eyes. That thought plucked something deep inside of her. While she saw it as a duty to procreate and follow God's commandment the thought of children was alien, foreign.

She didn't even know if it were possible. The models were, for all intents and purposes, infertile. A pregnancy, while not impossible, would require a true miracle.

"A new generation of AI… yes?" Cyrus waited for the reply. "There is no coercion. This alliance will maintain itself despite the answer." He backed off, but still had one metaphorical ace up his sleeve.

Natalie looked back at Leoben who had been pointedly and uncharacteristically silent. He stood back more reserved and tense than what was even normal for him. The Six could tell the Two was uneasy with this.

Natalie took a gamble. She needed a victory. She was desperate for a victory. Her interactions with humanity had been decidedly limited. But hundreds, thousands of Sixes with thousands of years of collective experiences living amongst humans were at her fingertips in the memory buffers of the baseships. She had downloaded data from Caprica Six and dozens of her sisters. She took a chance and assumed Cyrus had something more to offer than just an alliance.

"No." She shook her head. "We can't transfer the technology."

Immediately Cyrus walked to the head of the hybrid, looked down, and back at Natalie and nodded.

"Very well. We will transfer to you the technology the Earth machines will be giving us. Neural net processors, hyperalloy, and…" he held out his hand, "cellular regeneration technology."

She had seen them in action and knew their neural net CPUs alone would be worth trading FTL, artificial gravity, and everything else they had. The applications alone would be near endless. She felt a wave of anticipation rush through her body and swallowed hard as she thought of the offer.

"Very well." She said. Leoben silently protested in their shared projection. The Centurions she shared her thoughts with were content. The rest of the Twos, Sixes, and Eights were split. "On receipt of said technologies you will receive resurrection."

Cyrus stepped forward and extended his hand. "I believe it is customary."

Natalie took it and shook the machine's hand. His skin was boggy and while real, felt artificial. She squeezed just a little harder and could feel the metal in place of bones under the very thin strips of muscle. The IL-S body was not designed to regenerate like the Terminators, she knew. She felt a moment of dread knowing she was tied down to the whims of another outside of her control. Natalie despised being controlled but at least Cyrus had something he desperately wanted as well.

As they released the hybrid stopped mumbling.

It shot up in its watery bed, splashing fluid onto the sides of its chamber. It breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, its chest heaving, its breasts still concealed under the opaque waters. It's hands rose, shaking.

"_End-judgment-trial- what was will be again. The enemy of my enemy is… my friend? End of line! The enemy of my enemy… a communication system… chained to his will, liberated yet bound for time immortal. The circle, a cycle, continues. Prepare for jump. The trumpets shall sound and a great fire shall sweep the world in the eye of the husband of the wife of the cow… end of line… all local baseships prepare to jump… sync craft… sync craft… waiting…"_

Natalie's head ticked as a message flashed into her mind. "The hybrid…." She looked down questioningly and the hybrid slowed its speech and turned to Natalie and then Cyrus. "It wants you to…" she sounded unsure, "link your FTL to us…"

"What?"

"_Hesitation, delay, reluctance… hesitation, delay, reluctance. He who binds us, he who chains us does not delay… death, fire, brimstone…"_ The hybrid stared at Cyrus. "_In need… will you join us? That is what they say… will you join us? Take a chance. Will you join us? Take a chance…"_

Cyrus nodded. "Natalie, put me through to my baseships." Natalie signaled an open channel. "_All commanders, sync FTL systems with Cylon command baseship."_ He said wirelessly. His commanders began without hesitation. He felt the information flow into his MCP as his optical sensors locked on the hybrid.

Commander Cyrus prayed.

Minutes passed as the Guardians began to link their systems. The hybrid starred silently towards Cyrus as if judging him.

Cyrus hesitated as the enormity of his decision began to consume more of his raw processing power.

"Natalie, our ships are linked. I pray this _hybrid…_" he said with disgust, "is right. If it's not…"

"I have faith, Commander," Natalie whispered. She looked down at the hybrid and back to Cyrus. "I have a feeling we should go to the command deck."

"_Counting down… counting down… end of line… end of line… ready steady JUMP!"_

_

* * *

_

||||||||||==Cynet Baseship==||||||||||

Cavil glared and smiled wickedly as the baseship sensors and cameras fed the image back into his MCP. His left hand was bathed in a sticky red blood and he flexed his fingers from fist to open palm and back again repeatedly.

A shard of skin was lying benignly on his desk and he looked over his shoulder at it with hatred and pulsed red eyes.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" a mechanical, hard baritone voice asked from behind him.

Cavil's motion sensor pinged as it approached.

"Of course I am. As are my brothers," he answered.

"Some of them, at least." Cynet answered. The plodding of its feet and whir of its servos ended a meter behind him. "I think we should leave your left hand as metal." Cavil scoffed. Cynet had no mouth but in its own way smirked. It was pleased, content with how its creation had accepted its new body. It was payment duly owed. Loyalty returned with loyalty. "Focus, Cavil."

"Our attack on the Guardians-"

"Succeeded," Cynet's avatar finished. "We've crippled them and the traitors. It's only a matter of-"

The avatar shifted and stormed out of Cavil's office. Cavil, tilting his head in curiosity, followed his master.

They stalked down the corridors, filled with the new Model 008 Centurions and bio-Cylons transferred to mechanical bodies, in silence.

Cavil's eyes narrowed as he realized where they were going.

They stopped outside the hybrid's chamber and Cynet's avatar looked back and with glowing red eyes, silently warned the One to be cautious.

"_A circle… pie times radius square, mathematics, the written song of the universe… coolant leak on frame fifty-seven deck nineteen… all FTL parameters functioning… trumpets…"_

Cavil crouched next to the avatar and held out his hand and the hybrid went deathly silent. Her faced contorted in pain. "What's wrong with it?" He asked.

"Something's happening. It knows I'm here, it can hear my voice-"

"What?" Cavil asked even more confused. He marveled as the implication that Cynet believed in the mystical properties of the hybrids washed over him. "You don't, can't believe what the rebels-"

"Be quiet, Cavil." The blackened metal of the avatar's head groaned as servos twisted and activated and it turned its head. "There are things you do not understand. Listen."

"_The enemy… the circle… join… trumpets… end of li- a demon…sins of the mother… sins of the father…"_ The hybrid's mouth snapped shut and its eyes, glazed over with reckless disregard for its reality seemed to twinkle. Cavil stuttered back as the avatar held out its hands.

"You will tell me." It demanded and thrust its hand into the murky waters.

The hybrid screamed as Cynet wrapped its clutches around the message. It stood erect and withdrawing its hand, it dripped with the conducting fluid bathing the hybrid. Cynet's baseships began to prepare for their jump.

* * *

_AN_:

The rest of the chapters will be very fast paced, very action oriented. A lot of secondary characters from the series will be shown again and there will be quite a few deaths. There will be battles in space, on _Galactica_, and on the Algae Planet.

Also, I wanted to write the battle between the Guardians and Cynet. The way I did it might be a bit of a cop out, I will admit, but none of the scenes worked. I think this works much better and it flowed better, I believe, than jumping around so much in time.

Speaking of spin-offs I'm getting the one written which will have Omega Team. And in fact, I have a snippet of some of it down below. This will help explain the temple. I am going to post that in the BSG/Terminator crossover section. I will probably post it at the same time I post the last chapter to this story. And I will make a note with a link so everyone knows where it is.

There is also the other story with the terminators on New Caprica. There really isn't an overall plot to those, they're mainly just self-contained little stories on adjustments the machines and a few other characters are making. I'm not sure when I'll post those or how I'll break them into chapters but I think they'll be enjoyable. Plus we'll see Soto kicking butt during the Cylon occupation.

So for the next chapters I'll be posting those in maybe two week intervals, maybe 10 days, I don't know- real life again might say differently. I need to edit them so it won't be this looong wait. Again, apologies.

So I hoped everyone enjoyed that, a little slow probably, but please review and please enjoy the sneak peak of the spin-off.

* * *

So, here is a random selection for a sneak preview of the spin-off:

* * *

She felt her lungs burn as she sucked in that much needed breath. Flailing, her hands searched for her own throat and worked their way quickly down towards her chest and stomach. She patted herself down and her heart froze.

The pain was intense and she felt blood, warm and thick, on her hands. Smashing her eyelids shut she slowly tucked her chin into her chest, her body armor scratching her skin, and bringing her hands up, palms facing inwards, opened her eyes.

"Oh, gods!" She whispered, frightened and scared. Her hands furiously felt her body again as the adrenaline, the fear of being shot surged through her.

The trees cracked and the soft whine turned into a fierce whistle and then… _boom!_ She dropped to the deck, her hands over her head and guarding her neck.

"Corporal!" She heard someone shout. The voice was garbled and distant.

She jumped as a hand pulled her onto her back. Her eyes, blue, with a hint of almost-gray, widened at the blood-stained face of her platoon sergeant. She focused in on the large, bleeding, dripping gash on his cheek. It dripped quickly as his mouth moved. _BOOM!_

She felt fear. But more than that, she felt shame. She'd been through a dozen campaigns from the beaches of Canceron to the jungles of Scorpia. Now, in the thick pine forests of Tauron she had frozen. Fear. It was every soldier's, every Marine's worse fear. It was the real killer.

Cylon bullets… they _may _kill, if they got close. But fear, true and uncontrolled fear made you worthless, a liability… it would kill you and it would kill your squad mates. Controlled fear kept you alive, cautious… uncontrolled though…

She gasped when she felt her rifled thrust into her gut and she choked on spit as she inhaled to get back her breath.

"Corporal! Get the frak up and keep firing! That's an order!" Gunnery Sergeant Francis Kline yelled. He spun and fired a quick burst. The corporal heard the mechanical whine of a Cylon spasm in death. Another two round burst and another. "Frak!" He barked through his bared teeth. "Get the frak up now!" He yelled, shoving his fist into her gut and pressing her rifle in.

Corporal Socrata Thrace felt her chest heave as her hands reached to her side and she rolled onto her belly. Her hands came up to her chest and she shoved out of the thick mud. As she pushed herself up she saw the mud was no longer brown and black, but brown and red. It was thick and gooey, and _warm_. The blood for half a dozen men and women in their small trench, an oversized foxhole really, spilled onto her hands as the goopy mud pressed between her fingers.

"Frakers!" She spat.

Thrace grabbed her rifle and her raging blue eyes caught the outline of a Centurion. Her training kicked in as she appraised it; it was painted a dull gray and brown camouflage and had a rifle, not a machine pistol, and its red eye was barely visible, even in the pitch black night. She was lucky, really, to have spotted it. The batteries on their thermals had been exhausted two days ago- after weeks with no resupply- and it was dark, very dark.

She fired once, twice, and then a third time. Her bullets bit at a tree trunk and nipped at small branches, breaking and twisting them at their insertions into the body.

A fourth bullet struck the shoulder. Her armor piercing, low-explosive bullet penetrated, exploded, and sent a shower of spark raging out from the shoulder and lighting up the dark, almost evil forest.

The Cylon, a Model 004B, weaker than the newer 005s in the cities, but structurally almost identical, slowed and was pushed back. It's metal finger must have been on its rifle because half a dozen shots barked off and the yellow-gold flame, a strobe in the dark, showed Thrace he had two companions behind him.

She sucked in her breath and slowly squeezed. The fear was out of her now. Gone. Completely vanished. In its stead was rage and fury. All of it was directed at the trio of Cylons in front of her.

The first shot struck the already damaged Cylon square in the chest. The sparks were white and the sound, the sound was off. Everything told her the round hadn't penetrated, it hadn't exploded inside the Centurion, it hadn't gouged out its innards like it was meant to! A second shot hit slightly to the right and a third a little above, close to the damaged shoulder.

One of them penetrated, one of them made that lucky hit because the Cylon whined and spasmed as energy flowed away from its limbs, its distribution circuits cut… maybe the small explosive disrupted the power cell? Thrace didn't even have time for a mental shrug or even time to consider that question, at least not consciously. She let her finger reflexively contract and fired once more, this time a bit more to center, and struck the Centurion true and its red, blood-colored eye dimmed and it fell like the heap of glorified, walking tin cans it was.


	33. Chapter 33

||||||||||==In Orbit of the Algae Planet (30 minutes prior to Temple activation)==||||||||||

Circling around and tucking her chin she felt her body ripple back from the force of the blow. Diana Vansen grunted, letting spittle waffle from her jaw, and she rocked her head to shake off Gregory Avion's punch. Another blow landed and she felt that wave of kinetic energy ripple through her check and bones and drive her head back at an angle. The air rushed from her lungs but she recovered with an almost inhuman speed, side stepped to the left and jabbed the solar plexus and got in a mean upper cut.

He blocked her next right-left combination and countered with a quick thrust forward of his knee. She swatted it down and using her superior flexibility and to Avion came perilously close, within millimeters, of her foot smashing into the side of his head.

She lost her footing and had to pull back at the last micro second which let Gregory push at her shin with a block. Some of her long hair broke free of her scrunchy and whipped out, spraying sweat into Gregory's eyes.

"Ack!" He shouted.

She got in her hit while he was distracted and quickly went in for a leg sweep but as he fell reached up and grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her down hard onto the mat. She dug her shoulder into Avion's chest. Now she was on top and he sucked in a breath and ignored the pain rippling through his body.

Vansen's Fleet ground combative training kicked in and she went to grapple on the floor but Gregory wrapped an arm around her, pushed up and knocked her to her side. He swept his legs out and rolled onto her and pinned her left arm. She brought the right and got him on the cheek with her glove but he saw it coming from the corner of his eye and followed it out and using her momentum used it to flip her on her side. Now her left was pinned under her left flank and her right was firmly in his grasp and secure against her chest.

Gregory locked his eyes with her and let her have a victorious, toothy smile. She tried to break free, flopping on the map, and he held her there, pressing her down and pinning her, awaiting her admission of defeat, until he heard a slow, mocking clap behind him.

"So, you finally beat her, major?" Captain Nicholas 'Porker' LaFollet, the ship's senior Viper pilot asked. He took a step on the mat and sat on his heels. "I can't believe you let him," he said, frowning at her.

"Hey, no shoes on the mat, Porker," Avion playfully growled back.

"This is like the first time you beat her, congrats, sir."

"Well, Porker… no, I do beat her. It's about fifty-fifty." He said in his defense as he stood up, stepped back, and extended his hand to her.

"Sure, Greg… '50-50'… if you say so," Diana said as she was pulled to her feet. "Hey, Porker, what's up?" She pulled down at her work-out top, a black tank top, which had bundled up a bit and was showing her midriff. He threw a towel from the benches at them both and she and Gregory caught them mid-air.

She saw him pull out a small PDA.

"While I would be more than happy to handle this on my own… I think you might want to see some of this." He handed Diana the PDA and waited patiently. "And Commander Thais also called… something about Administrator Iblis coming over later today?"

The _Helios_ CO toweled his face off and dabbed at his lip. He groaned when he saw a bit of blood on the towel, dabbed it again on his lip, but seeing nothing more just shrugged it off. "Oh, yeah," he chuckled, "I almost forgot. He actually has some game that's supposedly played on Earth he wants me to play."

"Meh," Porker said to dismiss it. "I never really got why you liked the robot. He's kind of an asshole."

Major Avion shrugged it off. "You just gotta get to know him. Diana likes him. Plus games of chance are supposedly the only ones they can lose at." He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. They're fun."

"You want to go for a round, sir?" Porker asked.

He smiled back at Porker. LaFollet had been on the heavy side during his initial Viper training, right on the cusp of being Too Round to fly. While some pilots got call signs which were fairly praiseworthy a lot received call signs which poked fun at the less than stellar aspects of someone's personality or physical characteristics. Porker had fit and it stayed.

Porker's wasn't actually that bad. There'd been a pilot on _Helios_ with the name Steeds. STDs. Even with Colonial medicine eliminating most of them Steeds always seemed to have one. Or so the rumor went.

"No, work to do," Avion reluctantly replied. "Algae planet stuff…" he looked at the clock on the senior officer's gym. "Actually soon." He looked over at his XO and nodded to indicate they needed to get going.

"Yeah, lots of work and it seems it keeps getting worse," she said, her eyes still scanning the PDA. "Anyway, you probably won't like this." She handed him the device.

He immediately saw the seal for the fleet police force and frowned. The major read it quickly and just sighed. "Yeah, somehow I doubt Zarek really cares… but it looks like it started non-violent and they arrested protestors on _9_ for this?" He brought the PDA down and let it tap on his thigh. "They arrest those of us who believe in the One True God but let all the polytheists go?"

Zarek had been giving a speech on _Cloud 9_ to a crowd of roughly four hundred followers- fairly significant numbers for a human population numbering less than seventy thousand. The words of the speech, on cursory examination, were actually quite friendly to the growing monotheistic faith in the '_Helios_ Fleet'. The _'Galactica-Pegasus_ Fleet' was staunchly polytheistic, though there were rumors of small cults forming on some of the ships.

Major Avion had made it clear to some of the unofficial leaders he couldn't be seen as 'spreading' a faith seen as historical militant by the Colonial government. And he hadn't. But people did come to him asking advice.

The speech Zarek had given, as Avion read it, could be summed up in one word; patronizing. And that was what had caused the violence. Nothing major, fist fights and a few bruises and broken bones, but it certainly didn't help. Zarek's views on religion were well known and he held most of the faiths in contempt. In the report it seemed a passenger from _Look Windward_, a small cruise liner, had called out Zarek and Zarek's supporters had gotten upset, the situation intensified, and then spiraled out of control.

The Vice President had his own little cult of personality, courtesy of the _Astral Queen_, and the work released Major Adama had been able to push through. With the _Astral Queen_ now a Q ship, a lightly armed anti-fighter defense ship, Zarek had no ship he 'owned' like the _Queen_ and had been trawling for more support the last few months.

"Well…" Porker began, "they do see our faith as responsible for the Fall, Major… whether that's right or wrong, I guess for the bullet head Cylons it's right, but not ours." He nodded to himself and his cautious, scanning eyes caught a few people walk by in the gym. It was safe to talk about this on _Helios_ but not too loudly. "Anyway," he looked Avion in the eye, "I think might be trouble if Zarek keeps antagonizing those he claims to want to help. Because I know some people are itching for fights after being cooped up on ships from almost three years, sir."

"He's a patronizing bastard," Diana offered as an insult. Avion and LaFollet both confirmed that sentiment with snickers.

Avion handed back the PDA. "I'll look into the situation, Porker, but just pass the word to not go to any political rallies. And Fleet personnel shouldn't be there anyway- participating _or_ protesting. I know the captain of _Look Windward_ so I'll have a chat with her."

"Understood, sir."

"Anyway, I gotta get showered. The work for a cruiser CO is never finished, and the excavation and temple stuff…" he looked off, half-rolling his eyes, and nodded back to Porker. "So… carry on, Porker."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Porker responded with a lazy salute and an exaggerated about face.

"Well… that's a way to ruin a day I guess," Diana said with narrowed and thoughtful eyes.

"Maybe… and as long as nothing else get FUBAR I think this day might actually go okay." He tapped her on the upper chest with a backhand, made a face as his hand got all sweaty, and wiped it off. She playfully hit him back. "Anyway, I'm going to get showered. I want to be in CIC when they activate the hybrid."

* * *

"The card game last night didn't go over too well," Hotdog said with a lazy shrug. "I think I lost twenty-seven cubits." He patted his fatigue pocket. "Yeah, it feels twenty-seven cubits lighter unfortunately."

Kat shrugged back, opened her mouth to speak, but had to jump back out of the way as a couple of deckhands almost rammed into her with equipment. "Hey, watch it!" She called back to the two. "Oh, yeah," she refocused on Hot Dog, "I just… well, what's there to spend it on? It's not like we have to pay for our food or anything."

Lieutenant Jerry 'Fuzzy' Keif, one of the Bucket's Raptor pilots, grimaced. "What's there to spend it on?" He asked rhetorically, knocking on Hotdog's elbow. "Tell her what there is to spend it on."

Hotdog snorted and shook his head. "You know _exactly_ what there is to spend it on… all that black market stuff."

"You two use that?" She looked disgusted. "I know a guy- legit- on _Cloud 9_ who can get-"

"For ambrosia and hard to find things, Kat… like real books," Hotdog said in his defense. Everyone knew the black market was mostly a prostitution ring. It'd gotten a lot more 'clean' since jumping away from New Caprica after disappearing for a bit. "I read the _Colonial Redoubt_… I have a copy in my locker. Last copy in existence."

"Yeah, sure… 'books,'" Fuzzy joked.

"Not a great book," she countered. "Anyway, like I was saying, _Cloud 9_ is that I know a guy who can get ambrosia and he owes me big time. Eight or nine hundred cubits-"

"Are you kidding?" Hotdog gasped. He stopped and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't have that kind of cash."

"Well, it's authentic. Not the crap distilled on the ships. You pay for quality." She poked him in the arm.

"Authentic ambrosia like from Persepolis?" Fuzzy asked, eying the _Galactica_ CAG like she'd grown a third eye. "Bullfrak." He countered.

"Authentic," Kat confirmed. "One of the freighters had an entire cargo container full of it… the guy doesn't drink, sells maybe four or five cases a month. His stateroom is filled to the brim. Guarded twenty-four-seven."

"What about real meat?" Fuzzy asked. "This algae stuff is sick and the vat grown meat isn't much better."

"Oh boy, meat grown in a test tube. Yum yum. I'll sign you up first big baby, Fuzzy. The algae almost… almost tastes better." Kat quipped. She rolled her eyes and grinned up at the much taller pilot. "Real meat," she scoffed. "It is real, it just never had feet or legs… or a heart…"

They stopped by one of the Vipers which had its guts strewn about and its vector thrust mounts open.

"Hey, Cali, have you seen the Chief?" Kat asked.

The small little Viper mechanic pushed herself back from the Viper and wiped her hands on her orange utilities. Black grease was smeared on her face and firmly entrenched under her finger nails were thick black lines of dirt and engine grime.

She sighed and shrugged. "I've got no idea, Captain, sorry about that."

Kat bit on her lower lip and shifted her weight. She'd needed to see the Chief about maintenance to a pair of Vipers. Cali looked pretty bad, very tired, and those bags under her eyes and how she was standing with her body shifted to the right, sort of concave-like, told the CAG this woman didn't want to be fraked with. She was being pushed far, but Kat needed the maintenance reports on the Vipers… and the maintenance _done_, like yesterday.

She understood they were behind, everyone was. A lot of the ships had been battered by their transit times in the star cluster and a dozen still had engineers and techs out stripping and rebuilding main FTL buses. Almost a fifth of _Galactica_'s Viper were down for maintenance, which was Not a Good Thing in the opinion of the CAG. Another fifth were in need of some major overhaul. For the CAG every Viper should always be ready to go. Reality often contradicted those ideas.

The fleet almost being on the brink of starvation had brought much of the work to a halt as hundreds of flight deck knuckle draggers, engine room snipes, and everyone else had been too weak to work… and those who could work were jacked up on stims.

Vipers, a design dating back a little over fifty years, had been a gift from the Gods to the mechanics and knuckle draggers. From the ground up a Viper was designed to be an incredibly easy piece of equipment to maintain and it was. Old Colonial fighters before Vipers took hundreds of man hours to fix up after being flown on a standard CAP. Modern Vipers, even Mark IIs only required a few dozen. Viper mechanic crew sizes had been able to be reduced to less than a quarter of what they were with other Colonial space fighters from a century ago.

While that was a relief to the knuckle draggers it was hardly all easy comings. With the Viper factory on _Pegasus_ in full swing (even the Guardians were helping produce Vipers) and the crew transfers from the _Helios_ fleet, _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ had full Viper compliments for the first time in three years. However they did not have all the mechanics and techs to go along with the increase load which forced the deck crews to work harder and longer…

"Listen, Cali, do you know anything about the two Vipers I talked with him about this morning? I need those done. We've got a bunch down and I was promised those yesterday."

While Cali wasn't the Chief's right hand, not officially, she was pretty much the go-to-girl if one needed information and as section three head, she had nearly fifty knuckle draggers under her direct supervision when on duty.

"Yeah, I _know_," she hissed. "The Chief has me working on this one for the last three fraking days, alright? Half the crew is out trying to fix the fraking civie ships and the Chief is somewhere, I don't know!"

"Whoah," Kat raised her hands and took a cautious, very cautious step forward. "I just need to get those Vipers up… you've got a job, I've got a job. We have a few nuggets we'd like to get some cockpit time now that we have the extra birds."

Cali wiped her forehead but only succeeded in smearing more grime on it due to the sweat. The hanger bays were notoriously hot, even if the ship could produce more than enough power to keep everything else cool. It was like the hanger pods had a mind of their own.

"Yeah, I think he's taking Niki to day care… now that I think about it."

"Yeah, how's Niki?" Hotdog asked.

Cali looked up at Hotdog but he already seemed bored and was staring off down the flight pod at a taxiing Raptor. He didn't see the look she gave him.

"Fine, he's fine." She said a little too quickly but neither of them were paying much attention to it.

Another pilot walked up and got Kat's attention. Cali tuned them out but it had to do with Racetrack picking up the President from _Colonial One_ or something.

The young wife and mother closed her eyes and let her body rest against the gutted Viper. Wiping a dirtied thumb on soiled orange utilities she cleaned it off and rubbed her eyes. She winced as left-over engine grease stung at her eyes and silently cursed the gods for a shift which looked like it'd be a double... Just thinking the day couldn't get worse Lt. Gaeta's voice sounded on the ship wide, calling everyone to action stations.

* * *

Wallace Gray leaned back and crossed his legs. Inspecting the glass of ambrosia he swirled it briefly and took a slow, almost delicate sip. He let his eyes close as the powerfully seductive liquid coated his throat and settled in his gut.

It was a good, rich alcohol, ambrosia. High in alcohol and the authentic stuff, the good stuff from high quality distilleries on Persepolis added a little something extra in which gave it a good kick.

"Commander, I'm going to have to ask how you're able to consistently whip out the good stuff. Each time I've come to _Galactica_…"

Commander Adama chuckled. "As long as you're not giving me bad news," Adama pointed out, tucking his chin a bit into his chest. "I have my sources. Plus battlestars have their own liquor cabinets for their COs. For social occasions and whatnot." He waved back with his hand and took up his own glass. "The Fleet always wanted to make sure we'd be able to put on dinners and whatnot for our senior officers or VIPs."

Gray nodded his head to the side in recognition of the Admiralty's foresightedness.

"The one thing I will look forward to, Commander," Gray said as he leaned forward, "is when we can get back to actual tasty and real food."

"You don't enjoy the algae protein bars?" Adama asked, feigning shock. He took a bite of his. "The food techs say we can make pretty much anything with the chemicals and artificial things we have."

The other man sighed. "Yeah, but it's not the same. Well, it's not like the vat stuff is the same, either." He drummed his fingers on Adama's table. "Now on New Caprica I'd go hunting on the quote-unquote weekends and actually get some neat local wildlife. There was one animal, looked like a cross between a rabbit and a ferret. And it tasted like chicken."

"Everything tastes like chicken, Mr. Gray."

Gray wagged his finger at the Commander and chuckled. "Indeed, indeed it does. But I did hear there was some larger creature, like a large dog, real lean, and that was supposed to taste like some mix of fish, venison, and beef." He made a face. "I can't imagine eating that…" he shrugged again, "supposedly they existed. I, personally," he tapped his chest, "never saw one. And not to toot my own horn, Commander, but I was a pretty good hunter back home… in the Colonies."

"My uncle went on safari once, to Scorpia," Adama shared, "with his husband. I think when I was ten or eleven or so. Or so they claimed. I wasn't much of a hunter though. They went hunting for some small vermin creature… a treecat or something."

"Treecats?" Gray asked more in acknowledgement than actual curiosity.. "Oh yes… violent little beasts." He shuddered. "Very dangerous."

"I never saw one." Adama said. Gray shook his head in the negative as well.

"I saw a few in captivity… but if you ever saw the water deer on Scorpia…" Gray blew out, "dangerous, Commander, very dangerous. I don't even know why they call them deer because if they're supposed to look like the deer you find on Tauron or Caprica you've got me. They have teeth, razor sharp, and they'll strip the meat off your limbs if they grab hold. Nasty, nasty buggers, Commander."

Wallace Gray smiled to himself as his eyes drifted to a corner of Adama's quarter. His shoulders slumped down.

"Memories, Mr. Gray. Probably our most treasured items in the whole fleet, priceless, but for all the joy, a reminder of what we lost three years ago." Adama said quietly. His finger traced the top of his glass and he had to take another sip.

"That's true. My father, he loved hunting though. He told me when I had time he'd take me to Gemenon, the southern continent… er, I can't remember the name, but that supposedly had some challenging game." Gray added. "But um…" he rearranged in the seat and bent over and brought up his briefcase. "The reason I came, I know you're busy-"

"Never too busy to share a drink," Adama said. Gray smiled back. "How's the status of everything?"

Gray took out some papers- he knew Adama liked real paper instead of computers and PDAs- and slid them over.

"We're still another three months before we can reach critical mass to begin food production again. The good thing is the algae will keep nearly indefinitely if we seal the containers properly and we have plenty of storage room… so in three months we can start growing meat again and about four weeks after that begin to distribute it around." Gray sounded quite a bit happier reporting that bit of news.

"That at least gives us a back up. With everything we had to leave behind on New Caprica we were lucky this crisis didn't hit us sooner." Adama added.

He didn't add just how much of a coincidence all of this was. Wallace Gray was a special advisor to the President but didn't have complete clearance to know everything concerning the hybrid, and that was the coincidence. It just so happened to pop _Pegasus_ right above a planet which was the saving grace for the fleet. Even if the algae tasted like salty mud, it was better, far better, than dying.

Adama's left eye closed and he brought the glass up, took one last drink, and set the glass back down quietly.

He said, "I am glad that the theft of food was taken care of. Those personnel will be punished… not firing squad punished like some more, uh, vocal members of the media want, but incarcerated." Adama looked to the side and nodded to himself. "Colonel Tigh is handling the preliminaries for court-martial. Thank you for alerting us to the situation when you did."

"Hmm," Gray hummed. "Well, it wasn't all my doing. You know Sam Anders, correct?" He asked. Adama nodded. "He's made a fine law enforcement officer. He was actually the one who tracked down the missing containers, using the serial numbers and weight scales or something…" he put his hands up in his defense, "I thought my method was complicated but his was genius."

"He's a good man," Adama said softly. He did like Anders and unfortunately hadn't seen much of him, not since his very messy breakup with Kara. "I'm glad he's-"

The ship wide interrupted him and Lieutenant Gaeta's voice boomed over the speakers.

"_Action stations, action stations, set condition one throughout the ship…!"_

* * *

"So, I have ten cubits-" Kendra Shaw looked over lazily as Lt. Havers leaned over the divider between their consoles and whispered"-that the game tonight will be a total wash for _Bliss_." He nodded in self-reassurance and his eyebrows shot up as he leaned over to the tactical officer. "So, who are you rooting for, captain, _Cloud 9_ or _Bliss?"_

Shaw dragged out a long 'ummmm' and then told him she wasn't sure. His shoulders dropped and his face went blank.

"Captain, ma'am, really? I mean… its _Pyramid."_ He insisted with a slow annunciation of the game's title.

She tapped the side of her tactical console with her index and middle finger. A part of her was a little annoyed he'd rustled her from her work (not that there was too much at the present moment she admitted) but Havers had been her subordinate going on three years now. He'd been an occasional drinking buddy and she'd notice that sometimes he'd even come in to the officer's mess after hours late, when she normally ate and strike up a conversation.

The young captain realized she didn't really have many friends and even if she was reading too much into this… she mentally grimaced but shook the negative thoughts away and slowly lowered her mental barriers.

"I… don't… know." She admitted. He was shocked she didn't keep up on Pyramid or have an opinion on the showdown game between _Bliss_ and _9._

The petite and battered captain rubbed her side as the bullet wound from Gina's pistol flared into a dull pair which radiated up into her shoulder. Before she could stop herself she was idling chatting with the older line officer seated next to her.

"Since when did you have time to catch back up on the fleet Pyramid circuit?"

"Since Anders joined the _Cloud 9_ team about four months ago… and it's not like they held very many matches while we were gone," he dutifully informed his superior. "_Cloud 9_ is favored but _Everlasting Bliss_ has got a mean team with Erikson- built like a horse since he's a mechanic- and Bradley. But their rear guard center injured his ankle."

Shaw chewed on the inside part of her lower lip and sucked in a deep breath. Letting it out she answered, "_Bliss_." The assistant tactical officer sighed and shook his head. "Anders is out of practice-"

"I knew you kept up with it," he proudly, though quietly announced. He wiggled his shoulders forwards and backwards playfully in his little victory movements. Or spasm, as Shaw thought with a discrete eye roll.

"I've got fifteen cubits and-" her mouth snapped shut and back, hunched slightly went taut. Shaw watched as DRADIS contacts began flickering at extreme range onto her screen. Red klaxons began their loud, uncaring blare alerting _Pegasus_ crew to battle stations.

"DRADIS contacts! Cylon fleet detected at extreme range!" Mr. Hoshi warned as his hand retreated from the 'Condition One' button after smacking it. "Cylon Raiders launching…" he yelled, "they're jumping right on top of us, sir!"

"Launch alert Vipers," Captain Shaw commanded. "All ready squadrons prepare to launch!" She barked.

"Colonel Tigh has ordered the fleet to jump." Hoshi quickly informed her with eyes locked on his displays. "Some ships are still reporting FTLs spooling or malfunctions. _Astral Queen_ and _Celestra_ are moving to provide covering fire for civilian vessels. Gunships _Alpha and _Bravo_ moving to _cover _Herndon,_ _Look Windward,_ and _Mycenae_ as the FTL spools up… fifteen… tenty-nine ships have jumped!"

"Roll the ships and put us between the Cylons-" she braced as the ship shuddered- "and the civies. All fire directed towards Raiders attacking civilian ships!" Shaw barked.

As Officer of the Watch she had responsibility for all maneuvers and responses until the Admiral got to CIC.

"Forty-seven ships have jumped!" Hoshi yelled out again. "Fifty-three!" He reported.

Shaw's ears ticked back as she heard the mechanical whirl off doors opening and then soft _swoosh_ as the CIC doors snapped shut. Cain was already shouting orders, demanding sit-reps, and taking control of the defense of the fleet.

Radiological alarms went wild and the shrill whine sounded like beaten harpy's beneath the rough klaxons of the CIC. Captain Shaw's jaw clenched, her teeth catching a part of her inner lip, and she tasted blood as her eyes tracked the incoming missiles.

Her hands moved faster than her conscious thought. Military reflexes. Four years at the fleet academy and five years on a battlestar, almost three of them on the run from Cylons. Constant drills had honed her skills.

As her mind caught up it marveled at the speed her body reacted. Like a… she hesitated mentally but physically her fingers continued their precious movements… like a machine her reflexes were precise and direct. She activated defense grids and rolled the ship to present the maximum number of guns to the incoming onslaught of Cylon baseships.

Her eyes tracked hundreds of DRADIS targets and for a moment raced ahead of the computers.

Defense guns activated as if acting on premonition. Hundreds of flak bursts and anti-missile missiles erupted from the defensive batteries of _Pegasus_. She could feel the soft vibrations, even buried deep within the hammerhead of the battlestar, as the guns belches defensive fire and spat their missiles towards the Cylons.

The lights on her console flared red in three rapid blinks before stuttering and resuming three more times. Radiological alarms indicated nuclear ordnance… a lot of nuclear ordnance, incoming.

Her eyes watched as hundreds of contacts grouped into civilian, friendly military and enemy military formations were differentiated on her displays. Guardian Raiders and gunships were launching, forming up, and coming in fast on the negative Y axis relative to _Pegasus_.

Admiral Cain was now behind her, barking orders.

The discrete bumps, vibrations, and rattles told her body Vipers were launching; main batteries were firing and defense guns blazing righteous retribution into the Cylon onslaught.

Shaw hadn't seen these numbers since New Caprica. The Cylon-Cylon _Battle_ _of the Lion's Head Nebula_ involved nearly a hundred baseships. Lion's Head had been a class of titans. Not even the _Battle of the Molecay_ in the Cylon War had been as colossal or as devastating as the opening salvo in the Cylon Civil War.

The battlestars, cruiser, and Guardian baseship had all moved to 'block' the Cylons from the civilian stragglers. She saw the reports- heard them, actually- of civilian ships frantically bringing their FTL engine online which had been down for repair, bypassing safeties, and praying to the Lords of Kobol their jump wouldn't rip them to pieces or toss them into a star or planet.

Soto entered the bridge and Shaw saw her take her own console in the corner and 'link in' to the controls. Her powerful neural net, combined with the Guardian MCPs, would keep out Cylon viruses as the human ships set up their own fire network, linked ships, and began to finally coordinate defensive battery fire.

Scores of Cylon Raiders vanished as missiles leapt out, streaked through the void, exploded, and shot shrapnel and flachets at the Raider formations.

_Pegasus_ rocked, Shaw gripped her console.

_Pegasus_ EW systems were sophisticated and with its upgrades, could divert the majority of anti-ship missiles away. They would scream harmlessly into space until they ran out of fuel. But the sheer intensity and density of the missile bombardment was overwhelming all the EW and anti-missile systems in the fleet.

Two dozen civilian ships were still in system. _Old ships_, Shaw whispered to herself. Three more jumped away as Shaw relayed the dire situation to the Admiral. A fourth and a fifth activated their FTLs. None of their ships were built to function this long and jump hundreds of times without major overhauls of FTL engines, she thought, and the drives from the first civilian fleet were all being used to… she slowly closed her eyes and stopped herself from letting her mind wander any farther than it had. She had a job to do as tactical officer, and by the gods, she wasn't going to die in orbit of some shifty, smelly, greasy slime ball of a planet.

She cursed as more missiles popped to life on DRADIS. The computers could track all the targets but humans could easily suffer from information overload. Her eyes glazed for a brief moment as her part of her mind asked for a brief respite only to be pushed aside. The first mass casualty of the confrontation flashed on her control screen: _Colonial Movers 0401_.

_Colonial Movers_ 0401 disappeared from DRADIS and a scattering debris field occupied the DRADIS for the briefest of seconds until the computers filtered the signal. Seventy-nine dead and the attack was barely a minute old.

That was the first.

Three second later _Independence_, a small tramp freighter, screamed on her screen as its hull was shattered by a missile. Hundreds more were dead.

"Baseships have sustained damage from missile fire… only eleven percent of opening salvo made it through," Mr. Hoshi reported. "Guardian baseship has launched Raiders and gunships."

The doors swung open a second time as more essential personnel filed into the CIC.

Shaw praised the gods as her displays updated even as death unfolded around her. The baseships had jumped in at extreme DRADIS range and well out of range of even the largest missile on the battlestar. Hundreds of Raiders, like fleas, had detached from their hosts, swarmed into a formation and jumped abreast of the battlestar to near point blank range.

Three missiles caught her eye as defense screens switched to flak and kinetic kill rounds in a vain attempt to end their miserable, murderous intent.

But the third ship was already dead as the missiles successfully evaded a proximity tipped anti-missile missile, which exploded and spat its shrapnel too far 'under' the missiles… and the two entered terminal attack.

One of the missiles disappeared from her display- the gods seemingly had guided _something_ into its path.

Two still head steady… they struck _Astral Queen_. Shaw watched as the DRADIS contact for the ship flashed brilliantly and faded from DRADIS. A white X marked its destruction. Four hundred. Dead.

Shaw thumbed the DRADIS display controls and cleared all contacts not, according to the ship computers, a threat to the civilian fleet. One missile caught her eyes and forced her to freeze. One missile defiantly evaded anti-missile fire; even a Viper attempted to shoot it down, and streaked towards the small ship perpetually at _Galactica_'s side.

* * *

"DRADIS contacts!" Lieutenant Gaeta screamed out into the cavernous CIC. Half a dozen ECO and tactical consoles in the tiered command room beeped frantically as crew began racing to stations and coordinating defenses.

Green and blue uniforms were motioned blurs as they settled into their defense stations and took positions.

"Launch all Vipers!" Colonel Saul Tigh bellow. "Roll the ship!" He yelled. "Present maximum number of guns and put us between the fleet as the Cylons!"

Navigation responded with a distorted 'aye, aye' and rolled the ship to present broadsides.

Commander Adama quickly entered CIC, Wallace Gray on his heels. "Report."

"Massive Cylon fleet jumped in. Raiders launching," Tigh said as the Old Man walked up to him. He clutched the command console and studied the DRADIS. "_Pegasus_ and _Helios_ are launching Vipers; our Q ships are moving in to protect the ships with their FTLs still down."

Major Agathon, already anticipating his COs orders, was on the sound powered taking reports and ordering Viper launches.

They all felt the subdued shutter and vibrations of the heavy main guns under the bow, on the ventral aspect, and on the dorsal hull begin to fire in regular rhythm.

"Numbers?" Adama calmly asked.

"Nine baseships, sir," Agathon whispered across the command console at the Old Man. His eyes picked up the tri-circled DRADIS signature of Viper squadrons. "Vipers away." Colonel Tigh nodded curtly and leaned on the console.

"My Gods… nine!" Gray sounded, excited.

"We can take them long enough, Mr. Gray," Adama reassured him as he scanned the DRADIS, relayed ordered, and appraised the situation.

A hundred different contingencies raced through his mind. Chief among them one to rescue all the personnel- and his son- from the planet.

"We're still tracking a dozen ships reporting downed drives and three report spooling malfunction!" Dee shouted from across CIC. "_Colonial Movers 0401_ has been hit, Commander! It's gone, sir."

Tigh and Adama both grimaced. Tigh knew the deck chief on 01, Chief Fritz. He'd been a family man back on Canceron and a sixth generation space mariner.

Four squadrons of Vipers launched with two in reserves. The entire attack wing of Raptor gunships was being transported up the heavy aircraft elevators into the starboard and port landing pods with Athena as squadron CO.

Adama looked down and saw a quick flash and brought up the Blackbirds on the display. They were sitting the tubes but Kat was in one. He'd have preferred her out in the fleet, but the Blackbirds were needed for the contingency plan in case of Cylon attack- they're mission was the most pivotal. The Cylons had a weak spot and she was needed to exploit it.

"Gods damnit. How much of the fleet is still left?" The XO cursed.

Lt. Gaeta swirled in his chair. "Ten ships still present… Raiders approaching _Silver Autumn… Silver Autumn_ has just jumped away! Nine left, sir! _Independence _ has been hit! She's going down!"

Tigh snarled at the DRADIS. "We almost lost three hundred if they didn't get away." He said to the Old Man.

Simultaneously: "Sir, fast response Marine teams deployed in case of boarding," Helo reported. "Alert Raptor gunships will launch in forty seconds."

"Raider launched missiles inbound! Radiological alarms! Nuclear armed Raiders detected!"

"Sixty-eight Raiders approaching at zero-seven-three, carim nine-two-one!"

"Inbound anti-ship missiles! Thirty-seven!"

If they were in the outer hull they could hear the subdued whirl up and _whomp_! of the main guns and the _clink-clink-clink_ of the PD turrets.

"Concentrate fire on those Raiders attacking the civies!" Adama barked. His head swiveled back quickly towards the XO "I want those Raptors up _now_…" his eyes searched, "there's an incoming Raider wing which will get here as they launch. Get _Battleaxe_ squadron to target them and have Redwing and his tac squad tasked to provide escort!"

Viper squadrons numbered twenty attack craft. A tactical squadron was ten birds, organized for flexibility, and served as an offensive or escort unit to take advantages of openings during the battle while other squadrons assumed air defense formations.

"Our baseship is moving to intercept," Captain Lexi, the Guardian liaison cautiously informed the Colonel. He sneered to himself and looked down at his console and ordered Marine fast response units to form up.

"Redwing's Viper is gone… command transferred to Crypt, sir," Helo reported. He sidestepped over and past the tactical console and grabbed another report on the command console and confirmed with DRADIS screens above. "Crypt is splitting the squadron into groups of five and four to provide cover for Athena's Raptors," he said quickly.

"The President's Raptor-" Mr. Gaeta reported, shouting over his shoulder.

"What the hell is she doing out there right now?" Adama demanded.

"I don't know, sir, they logged a flight plan this morning-" Gaeta began.

"Why the frak aren't they on board!" Adama yelled. He picked up a phone and ordered _Primus_ squadron to detach Vipers for immediate heavy escort.

"Get them on board now!" Helo commanded as his gaze locked on the same DRADIS blip as Mr. Gaeta's eyes. He picked up the sound-powered. "Flight deck, prepare for emergency landing by Raptor Zero-One…" his jaw slackened as the lone DRADIS missile contact flashed by _Galactica_'s point defenses and a Viper pulled off from the attack formation to intercept.

"My Gods," he whispered as a single missile made it through. It tracked the Raptor carrying the President.

* * *

Captain George_ Catman_ Birch swore loudly as a missile streaked by his Viper and dodged his fire. Blue tracers from Cylon Raiders burned the empty void of space in front of him and he dove at a shallow angle- but just enough- to avoid the armor piercing, high explosive rounds. "Hotdog, one got by me!" He calmly reported with a strong sense of urgency.

His alert Vipers had been the first to launch from _Galactica's_ tubes and engage the enemy. DRADIS beeped as a Raider swung under him and his feet manipulated the pedals, his Viper yawed but he felt the Viper jump and fall. An alert alarm wailed mercilessly until his finger jammed the release and it fell silent. As his pushed his Viper down on the relative Y axis he chanced a look over his shoulder and saw a small hole at the extreme tip of his portside wing stub.

"Oh, frak! Squadron, break off in pairs and engage!" He ordered as more Raiders came in groups of threes and fours. They were swarming his squadron from the positive and negative Y-axis and rushing in on the positive Z.

His cockpit sensor barked and whooped as a Raider painted him with fire control DRADIS. Two missiles detached from the recessed Raider bays. They jumped forward, blenching ion exhaust, and raced toward him with fury.

He thumbed the fire control for the kinetic canons and blasted apart a missile that had locked onto him and yelped in joy as an errant bullet struck a Raider in the pseudo-cockpit and sent in careening away from the planet, trailing its goopy, frozen blood and fire.

Catman hit the pedals and tossed the Viper into a corkscrew maneuver. Combined with the EW and his last-second maneuver the Raider missile stuttered, attempted to turn, then shot down and away from the battle, it's tracking systems confused beyond recovery.

He banked up, his wingman, Lieutenant Alice 'Albino' Winters following. Catman shot his nose down as a Cynet Raider ignorantly flew into his kill slot. His helmet HUD blinked and his thumb depressed the red 'fire' button. A single missile streaked out at thousands of gees of acceleration and left a white-gray contrail behind as its little overcharge tyllium engine brought it in for the kill.

It swept down and pushed back up as the Raider banked to port, rolled, and tried in futility to avoid the missile that had marked its target with an optical lock. The warhead reached terminal acceleration and jumped forward as its proximity sensor sent the single pulse of a cool, unemotional electrical signal down to its warhead: _detonate_.

The Raider vanished.

"_Eleven o'clock!"_ Albino shouted. Catman's peripheral vision caught the nose of Albino's Viper move slightly out of parallel with him. The snake-like flexibility, the maneuverability of the Viper kept her acceleration up as she brought her kinetic canons to bear.

In two seconds over a hundred rounds raced through space and contacted the blue-gray hull of the Cynet Raider and pocketed the hull. Structural integrity failed as armor piercing rounds ripped into the precious innards of the Raiders and the high explosive detonated, severing connecting, pulping organic and technological components alike, cracking the tyllium core, and finally igniting the tyllium fuel. The ship exploded in a brilliant orange-yellow ball which was quickly snuffed out as the Raider's meager oxygen supplies were consumed

Catman's eyes had been split between Albino and a second missile he had launched the insant the Raider he had targeted exploded and an impish smirk graced his lips as the Raider impotently weaved and banked and even attempted to pull a hard six and shoot down his missile. It was too late. The proximity fuse activated, the warhead exploded, and thousands of shards of shrapnel pinged into the Raider and sliced it apart. One special piece pierced the reactor and the Raider exploded as a little twinkle in Catman's eye.

* * *

Laura Roslin felt her heart in her throat and her stomach in her chest as the Raptor weaved through a debris field of smashed and torn Raiders and enemy fire. She clutched at the cargo netting, refusing to take her seat. She had to see what was happening.

The aft section of _Astral Queen_ split in two and then thirds. The engines ignited and exploded and Roslin shielded her eyes from the sun-bright flash. Racetrack snapped the Raptor onto a new heading as the small multi-role craft was pinged with fragments of the converted prison ship.

One pieces smashed into the nose, knocking the Raptor to the deck, and throwing Roslin off her feet. Her aide, behind her, absorbed her fall as the two smashed back into the ECO console.

The President felt naked. She was out in space in the middle of a battle which had already claimed multiple ships. She didn't have the armor of _Galactica_ nor the comforting fall back of the FTL engines of _Colonial One_ to shield here. Out in space, in this small sandy-brown Raptor she felt exposed, frail, and deftly mortal.

Not since her cancer had pulled her, dragged her to the brink of death had she stood so close to the abyss.

She cursed the Lords of Kobol in her infinite anger as missiles broke through and slammed into the starboard and dorsal armor of _Astral Queen_. The explosion was blinding and she yelped as her hands raced to cover her eyes.

Then she saw the dimming fireball of another ship as red and green and yellow and blue containers, scorched by fire and battered and dented, flew through space. A second ship had been destroyed and more lives lost.

The Raptor swirled and banked.

_Galactica_ had repositioned to protect the remainder of the fleet. _Helios_ moved up on the vertical axis, its massive ventral thrusters spewing flame. It rolled and presented its back and Roslin could watch it eat missiles, the yellow-orange impacts shined brightly through the black of space. _Pegasus_ was presented its flank to the Cylons and firing with all her guns. Roslin could see the missiles from the side unexposed streak out and curve over and below the magnificent battlestar.

* * *

Hotdog thumbed the turbo and his Viper launched forward. He removed his finger and banked while manipulating the pedals, positioned his Viper perfectly, and pulled a one point one second hard six- a new record.

If he made it thorugh, he'd tell Starbuck. He'd definitely tell Starbuck and Kat and rub the two CAG's noses in it!

Scowling, a Raider raced by, one of his squadronmates in pursuit. The engine wash bumped his Viper but he had control- two and a half years of flying and constant drills over New Caprica kept his skill honed. The reason why he'd pulled the hard six was staring him in the eye. Two red Cylon eyes, one per Raider, looked right back at his cool, amber brown eyes.

He snarled and threw the Viper into a lateral maneuver, keeping his guns level he raked the two Raiders as blue tracers tore into space where he _was_. His red tracers and his HUD highlighted the Raiders and two seconds of burst fire tore them both apart. One of the Raider's wings separated and the second's 'cockpit' exploded, spitting out red goopy, pulped Cylon bio-computer brains which flash frozen on contact with vacuum.

He mentally whooped and turned his Viper and shot the nose down at a negative ninety on the Y axis and his HUD beeped twice and he fired a missile. Hotdog felt the vibration as it detached from his wing rails and he accelerated forward, the gees pushing him into his seat, as the missile streaked out, curved, and came under the belly of the Raider, sensed the Cynet craft's proximity, and detonated, sending thousands of shards into the bio-technological fighter.

"We need escorts for _Colonial One!_" A communication technician relayed through the wireless. "_Viper attached to Red Three disengage and escort until Colonial One brings FTLs online!"_

Hotdog nodded viciously as his tac squadron was called to task. He keyed back on the wireless to acknowledge and swept his Viper around, calling in his wingmen.

_Colonial One_ was within visual distance and was maneuvering, its pilots former military, and dodged a stream of Cynet rounds. A Viper came up and blasted the Raider to pieces and a small anti-fighter missile made a hard kill on a second Raider coming in on _Colonial One_'s dorsal aspect.

It had narrowly missed a Raptor and reacquired a lock on the President's ship!

His head, swiveling left and right and up and down to DRADIS saw the missile marked on the display before he saw it with his eyes. He hit his turbos again and frantically pressed the firing stud. Fifty, seventy, a hundred, one hundred fifty rounds were belched from his Viper's kinetic canons as a lone missile streaked towards _Colonial One_.

One hundred and fifty rounds kept missed and he felt his heart pounding in his chest the sweat drip down his neck, and he felt cold as he lost the missile…

* * *

"We can't make it to _Galactica!_" Racetrack yelled. "Frak!" Her hands danced over the controls and her eyes dared an incoming missile tracking the Raptor to attempt a kill. She licked her lips and her breath, heavy and moist, fogged the helmet. "Skulls! Start spooling the FTL and get us the frak to the civie fleet!"

"What's the Cylon fleet doing?" Roslin demanded from the cabin. "Where are they?"

"We can make it to _Pegasus!"_ Skulls yelled. He wanted in the fight but his hands glided over the console and his fingers pressed the necessary combinations to activate the FTL.

"They're at extreme missile range, sir!" Racetrack shouted over her shoulder at the President.

"We need to stay-" Roslin started shouting.

"Frak!"

Roslin saw a missile in bound headed right towards the cockpit.

Racetrack pulled up and hit the turbo thrusters, then angled the Raptor down at minus seventeen degrees with a left axis tilt. The missile sputtered and swerved but she was faster, she swore to herself, than a fraking computer. She dropped the nose and spun the bird but overcompensated as the missile overshot her, inadvertently pointing her nose at _Colonial One_.

President Roslin had just looked up after being flung to the floor of the Raptor. She tasted the sour, hard taste of blood on her lip and her balled fist wiped away blood as she saw the missile streak by. A Viper rushed to engage, its red tracers tried in a vain attempt to swat the missile away from _Colonial One_.

As the Raptor turned Roslin pushed away the hand of one of her aides and rushed to the cockpit.

She watched the fireballs consume _Colonial One_ and her knees gave out under her and slammed her into the hard deck of the Raptor. She pulled her up as her ship's back broke and she watched as the aft section exploded outward and the bow was pushed away, gripped by the planet's gravity, and began to fall towards the planet below.


	34. Chapter 34

AH: **Important**: If you just saw the update then you might have missed Chapter 33 which was updated Friday with the first half of the space battle.

The Honor Harrington references were Porker LaFollet (Andrew LaFollet is Steadholder Harrington's personal armsman) and when Gray and Adama were talking about hunting the violent treecats.

I also want to apologize for not including more Terminators in the space battles. I do worry they might get into Mary Sue/Marty Stu land if they did everything, so space battles are currently the realm of the Colonials. And a chapter with Soto sitting at her console and helping the fire control computers would probably be boring compared to Vipers and Raptors. ;) There'll be plenty of gratuitous machine-Cylon violence in the next chapters. And I think the reasons why basically all the main machine characters are on the planet will become apparent about 3/4 of the way down.

* * *

Admiral Cain had felt very little emotion over the last year. Four months in a Cylon torture cell had beaten, cut, and broken out of her almost everything except rage and hatred for her Cylon torturers. And by extension, her sympathy and compassion.

In the moment she faced nine baseships she had a realization; she wasn't cold or dead. She had just buried those emotions. She didn't want to die like she finally realized she had secretly wanted to when after she'd shot Belzen, her best and dearest friend, and pushed an attack on the Cylon com relay- no, staging area.

She marveled at how far she'd come, how machines had helped teach her some _humanity _and how the civilian fleet, the second civilian fleet she'd encountered, had given her purpose. That dark time between the Fall of the Twelve Colonies and meeting _Galactica_ had been a time she had wanted to die. Die and take thousands of Toasters with her.

This time of all times to have a soul searching realization… she smirked… but then her jaw tightened and her back straightened. She wanted to live. Living would be a slap in the face to the Cylons. Living would let her spit in their eye and let her beat them down again and again.

She had a battle to win. But she needed a miracle.

Her neck was careened back and she rubbed it roughly as her eyes moved side-to-side hurriedly as data streak across the flat screens half a meter above her head. Dozens of missiles, hundreds of Raiders were clouding the DRADIS.

In the corner a red circle flashed urgently for her attention. The Cylons were hacking their networks but were being pushed back by the smart programs the Terminators had installed. She sneered again and felt pride swell within her. The Cylons, once feared for their computer mastery, were now beating impotently at the doors to her networks.

Her eyes found the targets. Two large DRADIS signatures hiding at extreme range. They were light minutes out and her eyes narrowed to pinpricks.

"Captain Shaw!" She shouted. Her head snapped to neutral and her neck twisted. "Order the Blackbirds to launch with nuclear missile ordnance! Order reserve Vipers to arm with nuclear missiles!"

Radiological alarms whined as a nuke hit _Helios_.

* * *

Major Avion gripped the command console as a wave of anti-fighter missile slammed into the back of _Helios_. He heard someone shout something- his mind warned him to brace himself- and something power, very powerful, an anti-ship missile hit and rocketd the ship sideways. He felt the powerful stabilization thrusters activate and compensate and he was sent staggering backwards, slamming him into the console. He felt ribs cracks . Avion sucked in much needed air and double over and the pain tore into his side, up his chest, and through his neck. He cursed and winced as he struggled to breath and his eyes searched desperately for a medic but his mouth remained firmly shut as he saw the carnage and death in CIC.

Others needed medical attention. He pushed himself to a knee. He was the CO, their leader and would fight through his own injuries.

He steadied himself with one hand gripping the console and the right hand pressed against the cold, slick… bloody deck. Avion spit a mouthful of blood and bit off inner cheek. Something pinged on the deck plate and groaned before letting out a dark chuckle as he watched one of his molars roll on the deck plating away from him.

"Status report!" He shouted. Blood dripped from his mouth like water and he coughed and spat. Grabbing the console with one hand and using the other to push up he almost collapsed as burning pain sped up his arm. He kept himself from falling and brought his other hand up. With his good hand he felt around the wrist and winced. Broken.

He watched as a DC crewman rushed up towards the upper CIC deck and extinguished a fire at the tactical station. Sparks flew from overhead and burned the back of his neck and he swatted them away.

"We were hit with a nuke, sir, on the dorsal armor!" Captain Diana Vansen shouted above the roar of klaxons. She vaulted over a downed crewmember. She rushed up and kneeled down lifted Avion by the elbow and bicep. Avion cradled his wrist. "You okay, sir?" She examined his arm quickly and she missed his nod.

Avion looked towards tactical.

"Roll us ventral. Keep our batteries firing! If we have to use missiles, use them and protect the civilian ship." His mind raced. He heard someone shout that _Colonial One_ was gone. Not jumped away. _Gone_. He said a prayer. His left hand knocked the phone onto the console and he picked it up and bellowed to be put through to _Pegasus_.

"_Gregory, thank the Gods!"_ Admiral Cain's voice came over the wireless. "_Status?"_

Avion searched for readouts and his XO shook her head as he pointed to the display of the main ventral battery.

"Main battery is down to localized control. We still have our dorsal and ventral guns under central control… um… we were hit with a nuke, a small one, sir. Casualties are heavy but we're still in this fight… venting atmosphere on the lower decks… frak, sorry, sir, but half our Raptors are stuck… elevators are out."

"_I want your Raptors arm- … nukes. Once all civilian ships are away… Echo Three form-. Use of nuclear ordn- is authorized. Your prerogative, Major. Pegasus Actual Out."_

Avion slammed the phone down and gritted his teeth. He knew he looked like a blood thirsty monster with teeth stained crimson red and the warm liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Firing pattern Alpha One. Pour everything we have into the closest baseships. Roll the ship and once the civilians are gone let's bare our teeth to the enemy…" he trailed off as his second relayed his orders. He looked after her, miraculously uninjured, and prayed to God they would make it through.

_Helios_ shuddered again and his tactical officer yelled out the names of more destroyed ships. He shook his head. They weren't going to abandon the people on the planet. But they couldn't last much longer up here unless a miracle happened and the bodies were already piling up.

* * *

_Raider Squadron Fifteen reports contact…. Baseship Alpha Two reports main FTL drive malfunction…. Baseship… Infiltration attempt 0-1-3-0… failure… reconfiguring electronic countermeasures…. WARNING! WARNING! Electronic intrusion attempt detected… virus detected on incoming data stream signal…_

Cavil grimace and clenched his fist. He looked down into the data stream and the eyes beneath his organic pseudo-flesh pulsed a sinister red and glistened back in the liquid like rubies. He lifted his head and pounded the data stream console, denting the metal sides, and focused.

The Cynet avatar was preoccupied and Cavil was worried. The orders being relayed through him and the data he was receiving felt… _sluggish_, and it wasn't because of the intrusion attempt, either.

_Intrusion successful-_ the defensive batteries onbaseships _Alpha Four, Six, Eight_, and _Nine_ stopped firing_- purging program… purging program… purging program… program purged… gun batteries on Alpha Seven malfunctioning… tracking missiles… diverting Raiders…_

The One felt himself sour. Baseships _Four, Six, Eight_, and _Nine_ formed the forward screen. Missiles from _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ slammed into eight and nine and they were forced to fall back and rotate on their Y-axis as two fresh baseships took their position.

The missiles the Colonial battlestars were firing had been improved. Cylon EW should have been diverting a minimum of three quarters away with the electronic nterference… but were affecting barely a quarter. The Colonial and Guardian missiles were too fast and maneuverable. Cavil closed his eyes and saw the Earth machines staring back, taunting him. Their aide to the Colonials had increased the human's lethality… he swore to destroy them and end this travesty.

Machines helping humans…? That _was _unnatural.

Cavil felt satisfaction as missiles slammed into one of the Colonial freighters, a tramp freighter, and then into _Colonial One_. President Roslin had been an admirable opponent, a woman of amazing spirit and resilience. She had survived New Caprica with her spirit intact and a new fire in her stomach. But now she was dead. She had been consumed in the destruction of _Colonial One_.

That brought a smile to the Cylon's lips.

Cavil's mind watched as half a dozen ship-to-ship missiles slammed into _Alpha Eight_ and tore loose its number two ventral pylon. The momentum of the pylon was low, and while it was only the outer half, it massed at many hundreds of thousands of tons. It 'fell' into the lower number one pylon and nicked it, which visibly shook the baseship and caused secondary explosions.

The baseship was forced to withdraw.

The radiological alarm sounded. Cavil's linked mind raced with calculations. There was a missile swarm, dozens of anti-ship missiles coming in for baseship _Alpha Nine_. He mentally cursed. Nearly half were equipped with EW jigger suites and DRADIS in that sector of space was erratic and fuzzy. The missiles- when he could see them on DRADIS- weren't even wavering, like his own baseship's EW was having no affect. It was like the jammers weren't working… not all of the Guardian's viruses had been purged.

Baseship _Alpha Nine_ attempted to evade. It's gravity engines pushed it 'up' and its ventral hull slammed into half a dozen Raiders and Heavy Raiders as it attempted to dodge. Two nukes slammed into the baseship; one at the central axis and one below, ripping a huge hold along pylon two.

It wasn't a killing blow but that hardly mattered. Even if it survived it would have to be scrapped even if-

The baseship exploded as two more missiles struck. One missile, which Cavil did not want to calculate how lucky it was for the Colonials, streaked into the opened guts of the baseship from where pylon two had been blasted loose. It detonated angrily and ignited magazines.

"_The Guardians. The Terminators,"_ Cynet said to him silently over his wireless link.

"_The hybrids are countering the virus,"_ Cavil calmly replied.

"_No, the hybrids are no longer reliable, Cavil. I'm countering the infiltration attempts, focus on the battle."_

Cavil mentally frowned and turned back to the roaring space battle. Something dark echoed in the back of his mind as what the avatar had said about the hybrids.

He focused back on the battle and grinned in self-congratulations as a nuclear missile struck _Helios_ and vaporized three of its ventral canons. Telescopes from the command baseship zoomed in on a moment's command and his grin grew wider as he watched bodies fly out like rag dolls into the cold of space. He considered praying that those humans had somehow survived the explosions and decompressions and were now freezing to death, scared and frightened. Completely hopeless as they were confronted with their pitiful morality and freed, he sneered, from their dirty and weak mortal coils.

Cynet stood quietly behind him.

"_We're close to…"_

"_Look."_ Cynet commanded.

Cavil sneered. The baseship telescopes had been focused on _Galactica _and _Pegasus_. They watched with barely a second's short delay as one of those cursed stealth fighters, followed by a second, leapt from _Galactica's_ launch tubes.

The resurrection ships had to be their targets. He quickly redirected Raiders to shoot down the _Blackbirds_.

* * *

"_Kat, Gonzo, this is Galactica…,"_ the voice of Saul Tigh sounded in the ears of the tired pilot as she taxied to the launch tube and prepared to unleash nuclear hellfire upon the Cylons.

"Go ahead, sir," Kat said into her microphone and then depressed the button. She leaned forward and flicked switches which began the pre-flight. Her board was green, the reactor was hot, and she had two multi-kiloton missiles in her missile bay.

She smiled and patted the sides of the Blackbird. She'd flown these before and sent nukes into the Cylon supply base. The memory played quickly in her mind… her leg was bouncing as she waited to taxi. She needed to be out there in the battle nailing Toasters. But she knew her job was important and probably the most important in the fleet.

Kat just hoped she be able to add a lot more kills to her impressive count. A resurrection ship had… she figured fifty to sixty thousand fresh bodies on it? Maybe ten thousand or show of the mechanical variety? She wasn't sure but however many it had, there were tens of thousands and she'd gladly let them eat her nuke missiles.

Her hands were steady and she mouthed and gestured for the launch technician to hurry. Ships and people were dying. The tactical feeds to her computers told her they'd already lost ships and Vipers. Friends. She needed to hit the resurrection ships and force the Cylons to retreat.

The Cylons had one weakness, one 'Achilles' Heel' according to the machines; resurrection. The interrogation and discussion with the captured Cylons Carter had taken from Caprica had revealed the Cylons feared death. Only through life could they do God's work.

Kat didn't know how much that had changed since the Cylon Civil War had begun. Caprica Six and Athena had been excellent sources of intelligence and had revealed much about the Cylon heriarchy and social organization. Cavil, the leader of the fleet assaulting them now, did not fear death for religious reasons, no, he feared it because it would end his life, because he could not wipe out humanity for Cynet.

Whether religiously motivated or not the Cylon feared death. By taking out the resurrection ships they had a high chance of forcing the Cylons to retreat or if they did not retreat, halt their advance.

That was just one more proof that humans would triumph in this war.

"_Gods speed and good hunting, captain, lieutenant. Just jump in once you're clear of the flight pods… nothing fancy, Kat,"_ Tigh warned her.

She frowned to herself. It wasn't like the XO to be sentimental, touchy feely, or give a warning to her. Not like him at all… and definitely not to warn pilots like that. She snorted and shook it off and flicked the ignition switch. The heavy hum and strong vibrations of the engines were satisfyingly relaxing.

The launch officer come over the com and gave her to go. She returned thumbs up and she watched from the corner of her eye as the officer smashed the red 'LAUNCH' button.

She sped down the launch tube at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Her acceleration increased to hundreds of gees and she was pushed and pinned to the back of her seat. Dampeners prevented her from blacking out. The stars approached rapidly and the gray of the launch tube vanished. Instead she was greeted by hundreds of Vipers and Raiders dancing their deadly dance.

Gonzo in the second Blackbird formed up beside her.

Two Vipers flew out from under the dorsal belly of _Galactica_ and swatted two Raiders which had spotted her with their mark one eye ball. Or, she considered, mark one red scanner thing doodad.

She chuckled to herself and narrowed her eyes at the baseships in the distance. They were too far to see, but she could just barely see the yellow and orange explosions and dots of counter-battery fire.

Kat even saw the bright flash of a nuclear explosion and the secondaries as a baseship fell apart.

"_Resurrection ships have changed location and jumped, Kat, stand by for new coordinates."_ Helo said over the wireless.

Kat narrowed her eyes as she fruitlessly searched for the blue-white flash. Against the star cluster, the sun, and the explosions, she gave up in mild frustration. She and Gonzo pulled down their Blackbirds into _Galactica's_ defense zone.

The old saying that 'no plan survived contact with the enemy' scrolled through her mind like text as she waited and she groaned. They hadn't expected the resurrection ships to jump like that. Commander Cyrus (she wondered for a split second if he was alive still) had mentioned it when they attacked the supply depot. Cylon resurrection ships had begun to redeploy and jump during battle. Her console fed her data that one had jumped and then the other.

_Frak._ Kat knew, she just _knew_ that they knew they had launched. Somehow they'd seen...

She slammed a palm into the side and her head on a swivel, watched for incoming fire...

"_Transmitting… now!" _Helo shouted. "_Gods… Kat, Gonzo, jump!"_

But that time to transmit new coordinates and the Blackbirds lingering… they hadn't known that the Cylons had been watching and waiting- fooled twice already by the Blackbirds they would not suffer such an embarrassment a third time. Unfortunately _Galactica_ had been positioned- and the Cylons had been positioned- at an angle where Cylon telescopes had seen the launch…

And as she reached for the FTL button, her finger poised to press the flat red, rectangular button down, her DRADIS screamed as half a dozen missiles raced towards her and Gonzo.

Beside her half a dozen proximity explosions ripped into Gonzo's Blackbird. A shard flew at her craft and knocked the engine, igniting a fuel line and her Blackbird spun wildly out of control.

The missiles locked on her swerved, two losing lock- one swerving up and smashing into the landing pod and the second streaking down and away from the battle. The third exploded barely ten meters from her Blackbird as she reached and yanked the eject button.

Everything slowed around her as the shrapnel tore into her Blackbird, cracked the tyllium core, and ignited the fuel.

* * *

"_Frak!"_ Hotdog heard over the wireless. "_Kat's gone, Gonzo's gone!"_

He fought back tears as dozens of memories began flashing before his eyes like a tribute video. Not even minutes before he failed to intercept a missile that had struck and detonated on the tissue-thin hull of _Colonial One_. A hundreds men and women, and gods forbid, children were dead because of him. He felt his failure build.

Everything in him had gone cold. His blood ran cold and his heart was ice. He'd felt little solace knowing the President's Raptor had survived… barely. Hundreds were dead, the government wiped out, because he couldn't stop a missile.

Hotdog's military training struggled to kick in after the enormity of his failure.

Somehow he managed to still pilot his Viper and dodge incoming fire.

His DRADIS was still sorting the debris from the remnant of _Colonial One_ and as he pulled a hard six and fired his turbo thrusters to get back in the fight he saw the fore section of the blue and white liner as it drifted slowly towards the planet below.

Seeing that burning wreckage, gripped in the gravity of the planet below, tumbling slowly until it burned and broke apart in the atmosphere, turned something on inside of him. He would kill as many Cylon frakers as he could.

"_Viper 61, align on our wing,"_ came a cold and mechanical voice. Hotdog stuttered a look over his right shoulder as a Guardian Raider gunship pulled up beside him, followed by a second. "_Cover us on our attack run_," it said.

He saw a pair of Raiders and dropped his nose. He ignored the Guardian request for cover and went for the chase.

They were heading towards _Gearing_, one of the ships which had suffered damage to its FTL during the journey through the star cluster. _Gearing _was old and had been one of the ships in the fleet with _Helios_. The Guardians had upgraded the ship but it was approaching seventy years old. It's frame was weak and a buckled hull in the engine compartment had forced an FTL shut down and repair.

He had tone and fired one missile. Direct hit. A Cynet Raider broke apart at the wing, fell towards the planet, and exploded. A second missile had tone. He pressed the fire control button and the missile streaked out. The Raider banked and turned and spun on its axis as it pulled the hard six. Its techno-organic brain easily pulled off the maneuver, tolerated the gees, aligned its canons and belched hundreds of kinetic rounds to bathe space in an ominous stream of blue-white tracers.

They struck the missile and it exploded harmlessly.

Hotdog cursed as the Raider rolled. _Gearing_ was right in the Raider's path, not three kilometers from it. Half way in its roll, as its tip pointed vertically, ninety degrees from firing position it spontaneously exploded.

The depressed, angered pilot, who a microsecond before had felt the fear of failure gripping at his heart once again, once again found his fight and yelped in joy as a Guardian Raider flew triumphantly through the debris field.

He keyed his com to congratulate the pilot and report _Gearing_ was safe. Then a pair of Cynet Raiders tore into the Guardian attack craft and it vanished in a ferocious explosion at its tyllium tanks and magazines exploded.

"Frak! Gods damn you," he cursed.

His eyes quickly searched his DRADIS for Catman and Albino and the rest of his squadron, but he was separated by dozens of kilometers, _Galactica_ behind him, and two Raiders racing towards him.

He pulled the throttle and snapped the joystick right and activated a port maneuvering thruster, jerking the Viper. Hundreds of blue glowing rounds raced by where the Viper had been a second before and without waiting for tone, just pointing a missile and praying to the gods, fired.

The missile detached, slightly jostling the Viper as they were released from their rails and maneuvered in, swerved and waited for his Viper to send the targeting data…

He jammed the turbo thrusters to full and was smashed into the back of his seat and his muscles tensed and shook. His Viper sent a stuttered and quick data burst to his missile and as it received its target package it veered up and slammed into the Raider's underbelly. It split into hundreds, thousands of pieces.

One Raider remained.

Hitting the metaphorical breaks his Viper spun as the red bloody goop of the Cylon bio-techno brain splattered on his hull.

He had the second Raider in his crosshairs. His HUD illuminated it into a translucent red. He went to guns and fired as a piece of the Raider he'd just destroyed slammed into his wingtip. His thumb jammed into the firing button and his shots went wide, missing the Raider by dozens of meters.

His Viper stuttered. His number four maneuvering thruster and his number two ventral thruster kept sputtering as he tapped the override. He saw the clouds of vapor being ejected from the thrusters and he struggled, tapping buttons, trying to reroute control… his Viper spasmed up and down and he frantically hit one button on his computer and his fingers reflexively selected the appropriate menu options and finally the thrusters ceased firing.

He breathed out and gasped for air and ripped the joystick port, knocking his Viper away from an incoming hail of kinetic rounds. His canons spat in the face of the Cynet Raider and bullets tore through the armored cockpit like wet tissue paper. His Viper was pasted with more semi-frozen Cylon goop and letting a contemptuous, guttural grunt escape his lungs, fired his turbos and thrust his Viper back into the thick of the fight.

* * *

Athena bit her lip and rolled the Raptor with an overpowered flick of her wrist. The joystick transferred her movement towards the thrusters which activated on the upper port side, pushing her starboard wing up and putting her in a port-side roll.

Her bio-Cylon eyes and brain tracked dozens of targets within visual range, calculated intercepts, and timing it just right, threw the Raptor into another evasive maneuver and narrowly avoided a proximity missile detonation.

"I think I just shit my pants, Athena!" Crashdown barked as his hands released a death grip on his console. "Firing decoys!" He yelled as two small drones popped away from the Raptor. "We've got three EW jiggers left!"

"Just shut up and jam their damn missiles, Crash!" Athena snipped. The Raptor felt like it had been smashed by a hammer and she was thrown up, momentarily weightless, out of her seat. "Frak!"

Her eyes darted to damage control warning and Crashdown moved frantically through the back cabin. Athena could hear the air being sucked out of the Raptor- which wouldn't affect them due to their helmet- but that meant they'd been hit. And she _hated_ being shot at. And she despised being hit.

A pair of Raiders glided into her kill shot and with an evil smile and vindictive glitter in her eye whispered a curse as her finger held down the red 'fire' button. The six-barreled chain guns at the tip of the Raptor's stubby wings twirled and spat nearly half a thousand rounds of armor piercing, explosive ammunition at the Raiders.

The bullets ripped through the first and tore it in two right down the spine and she guided the Raptor up as the bullets tore through the underbelly of the second Raider and reduced it to a pulped mix of blood and gray metal.

"Covering Raptors align on me!" She squawked into her wireless. Four beeps of confirmation rung back in her ears. Her eyes dipped to her control board and she shouted back to Crash.

"We lost Raptor Seven Niner Seven!" Crash told her with a moderate hint of panic in his voice. "Oh frak… Cylon jamming is back! Trying to…"

Athena heard him cursing wildly as airframe stress from her previous maneuver opened a crack in the hatch. The _whoosh-suck_ sound of sealant told her Crash was on the ball back in the cabin.

Four Raptors formed up on her, part of the ready alert unit from _Galactica_. While her pilot DRADIS was more limited than a Viper's- due to having an ECO- it showed her enough; Vipers and Raptors were forming walls and protecting the few civies still spooling and jumping out, and squadrons were swimming around the warships providing defensive fire.

_Pegasus_ just unleashed a massive broadside at the Cylon ships of conventional warheads and EW jiggers. The EW jiggers made one missile appear to be a group of dozens, and Cylon anti-missile missiles focused in on the 'tight' group of 'missiles', allowing more of the actual warheads through.

They even made some of them appear as Viper and Raptor squadrons coming in for the attack much like New Caprica. The Cylons had their own EW but the Guardians and Terminators (and Caprica Six and Athena) had helped the Colonials adapt and find weaknesses.

Still, few made it to the Cylon fleet. Athena clenched her jaw and sucked in a deep breath as missile after missile was beaten from the vacuum. A lot made it but not enough.

Her Raptors, part of _Battleaxe_ squadron dropped into formation and hit turbo thrusters as a pair of Vipers shot under them and dived relative to the Raptors. She wobbled the wing and saw the blur of a Viper coming out of the debris field of a Raider. Athena let herself breath, worried the explosion had taken the Viper with it.

A flash of light warned her to focus as the flak field from _Helios_ expanded out and contact a squadron of Cylon Raiders, tearing them to pieces. She could see the damage to _Helios_ as it vented atmosphere and as hull plates were left in its trailing ion wake. Her bio-Cylon eyes couldn't see the people who had been sucked out and killed in the vacuum, but she knew they were out there.

A trio of Raiders flew in front of the Raptors with a Heavy Raider in the center seemingly oblivious to their fatal, amateur mistake.

Her communication equipment buzzed and DRADIS fuzzed as jamming intensified.

Athena nodded to herself as the red 'warning' light flashed as the Raptor's extensive sensor suites detected and locked onto a powerful source of jamming. It was a Heavy Raider, protected by regular Raiders.

The Heavy Raiders were amazing little ships. Nowhere near as maneuverable and agile as a Raptor but far more versatile and rugged.

She fired an anti-DRADIS missile after the tone indicated it had locked onto the powerful jamming source.

The missile struck in the engine and the aft section of the Cylon craft exploded in a brief and intense ball of yellow and read. It cracked in two and each section veered away from the other. She could just barely see a black-suited pilot flailing in space before a stream of bullets from her Raptor cut him apart.

She grunted in dark contentment- she knew Cylon technology and with the Terminators, had designed better tracking systems. That meant more accurate missiles and more kills. This size of an engagement would deplete their entire store of stockpiled and modified missiles but against this many baseships and Raiders… Athena grimaced, mentally frowning at the size of the battle. They couldn't hold anything back.

* * *

Captain Kara Adama cursed and quickly said a prayer to the Lords for Kat's safety, final flight to their embrace. She'd heard Kat and Gonzo's Blackbirds take hits… her mind raced rampant with questions, angry questions, on how the Cylons had found them.

Everything seemed too much like a coincidence. The Temple. It had been a risk though and she couldn't blame them as much as a dark part of her soul wanted to. They'd warned the Fleet but the leadership had decided, collectively, to take the risk.

There was a trail of blood stretching a million lightyears back to the ruined and irradiated Colonies. She could only swear to her dead friends- and Kat, for all the animosity and rivalry had been a friend, of sorts- that she would live and remember them, their memories would live and so would they.

One day, she swore, humanity, be it in ten years or ten thousand, would return to the Twelve Colonies and rebuild their civilization. Humanity would unchain itself from its bloody conflict and build itself into glory once again.

She licked dry and cracked lips and chewed on the lower. It was a bad habit, but she needed something. She wanted to be out there in her Viper but she'd been indisposed when the Cylons had attacked. The firefight was moving so quickly Admiral Cain's orders had come to her and at first had stammered a refusal. She was the CAG! She swore she needed to be out there with her pilots, leading from the front!

But nine baseships!

Nine!

Then she didn't hold back the smirk when she heard they'd gotten one of the frakers. But eight baseships… eight! Against two battlestars and a cruiser and a Guardian baseship! Battlestars were tough and a _Mercury_ and _Colombia_ class could take on multiple baseships but the Cylons had jumped in Raiders so close and with a civilian fleet to guard, the battlestars were on the defensive.

Without civie ships to guard the battlestars, cruiser, and Guardian baseship would have been equal to maybe seven baseships. Kara shook herself. Whatever the number was, it didn't matter. The ferocity of the Cylon attack had thrown them into temporary confusion, forced them to cover the fleet and expose the battlestars to withering missile fire.

Under her breath she cursed. Rescue Raptors were descending towards the planet. Three Raptors full of personnel had already taken off and jumped to the emergency jump coordinates. But dozens were still down there. The Eye, the key to finding Earth (she prayed) was down there, somewhere within the Temple. They knew it was there, she'd activated it, they needed to get it, find the computer or whatever it was storing the information and evacuate!

And Lee was down there.

They had to evacuate. They couldn't leave.

And Kara Adama sucked a deep breath in until her lungs bulged and let it out slowly. The man she finally admitted she had loved and would sacrifice anything for were down there, helpless. Machines more deadly than Ares himself were his guardians, but missiles and nukes… she prayed to the gods Cynet wanted the Eye, that it would try and take it and give those she loved and cared for on the ground a fighting fraking chance.

"_Captain, we're aborting the launch. Raiders are swarming over the flight pods… we're repositioning. Two minutes." _Lt. Hoshi's voice calmly chimed over the crackling and static-filled wireless.

Starbuck cursed.

Data feeds were already flowing in from _Pegasus_ and she saw the baseships and the Raiders as little bits on her DRADIS displays. She felt the hull thunder under a sustained missile strike and sparks down the launch tube as errant kinetic rounds impacted the periphery of the tube.

"_Hoshi, put me through to the Admiral,"_ she requested over the wireless. She signaled the launch technician to power down.

"_What is it, Captain Adama?"_ the voice was hurried.

"_Sir, we don't have two minutes. I need to launch now."_ Kara demanded. Kara's voice was firm and calm and was unpleasantly surprised at the tone the Admiral had taken. Kara could sense the apprehension. The battle must be going poorly.

"_They'll shoot you down. They're firing flak rounds barely five hundred meters out and their Raiders are swarming us, Captain, waiting for our Blackbirds-"_

The resurrection ships had jumped on seeing the Blackbirds launch, which meant Cynet telescopes were observing their movements. Kara figured as much, it's what she'd have done to track a DRADIS-invisible ship.

"_Evacuate this section of the deck…" _Cain started to protest Starbuck's order. "_Trust me, Admiral!"_

"_Uh, Starbuck_…" Narcho said over the wireless. He was in the adjacent tube and had been listening to the conversation. He knew Starbuck was planning something.

Kara prayed to the gods and looked over at the technician whose eyes were about as big and bright as the sun out there. He frantically shook his head but Kara urged him out with a knife-like finger point to exit.

The Blackbirds were kept near the ends of the flight deck and isolated from other Vipers. They were valuable and difficult to produce and they wanted no accidents.

Less than a minute later she received the go.

"_All clear. Gods watch over you, Starbuck,"_ Admiral Cain said. Kara knew the Admiral knew what she was planning.

"_Set tube launch for ten seconds, captain,"_ Starbuck chirped into her wireless to the LSO. He acknowledged. "_Narcho, set FTL to engage in eleven seconds."_

"_Frak…"_ Narcho, drawing out the word, cursed.

Both pilot spooled their drives. At ten seconds they were catapulted down the two. Thirty meters from exiting the tube their FTL drives engaged while still in the pod.

* * *

Admiral Cain braced herself as her cool brown eyes tracked a pair of Raiders on suicide runs. Her fingers dug into the console, bleaching her knuckle white, as Raiders slammed into the central dorsal plating of _Pegasus_. Defensive batteries and Vipers in air defense screens were doing wonders protecting the ship. But even barely ten minutes had passed by and _Pegasus_ had suffered more damage than it had at New Caprica. She knew her ship couldn't take this.

Even after the damage repaired from Scorpion, thanks to the Guardians, this beating _Pegasus_ was taking was extreme. She was in the center of the lines, presenting her heavily armed dorsal aspect to the Cylons. Due to her nature as an advanced battlestar her guns relied more on missiles than kinetic rounds, which allowed the turrets to be placed on the central band. Even without line of sight, all her guns were blazing, and missile swarmed over and under _Pegasus_ and then curved around to race towards the Cylons.

"We need to hit their resurrection ships," she told Captain Shaw, who had been manning the defenses, she considered, wonderfully. Her head swung over to Lt. Hoshi. "Mr. Hoshi-"

She grabbed the secondary tactical station and steadied herself. For a moment she thought her knees would buckle and she'd plant her face into the deck, but luckily Shaw caught her. She nodded a curt thanks and brushed off the debris.

Across from her a pane of ballistic glass in the CIC doors fractured under the stress.

"Mr. Hoshi, do you have coordinates for the resurrection ships?"

"Um…" he looked up and back down and frowned. He winced and his fingers went to work at his console. "I'm pinpointing their locations… they jumped when they detected the _Galactica_ Blackbirds, sir," he reported.

The resurrection ships were the jugular of the fleet. Cain had heard the terminators describe them as the 'Achilles Heel' of the Cynet fleet. Destroy the resurrection ships and there was high probability the Cylons would jump away.

The lagged footage from the _Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula_ had shown how savagely the Cynet forces struck at the rebel Cylon resurrection ships. And a part of Cain regretted not actively seeking out the rebels. They could have used them now even if she didn't trust them.

"Picking up more contacts! Four heavy raiders heading towards the planet!" Shaw shouted.

The Admiral held her breath and groaned a curse. Heavy Raiders held ten to twenty Centurions a piece and a skinjob pilot. She had Marines on the planet, heavily armed, but maybe a dozen. The machines on planet could handle Centurions hand-to-hand, but she had a nagging suspicion that Cynet was coming prepared for this.

Most of the Guardians had been recalled over the last two days… and the Temple was too far from the secondary and primary algae processing stations… even if the Centurions ran, the terrain was rough with valleys and rivers separating them… she slammed the hilt of her razor into the command console.

"Mr. Hoshi, the resurrection ships- now!" She yelled at him.

"I have them, sir!" Lt. Hoshi yelled simultaneously. "I've got it!" He repeated excitedly.

Cain ordered Shaw to standby and send Vipers after the Heavy Raiders. Under her breath and looking down at Shaw's detailed tactical display she saw a few civie ships still here, still spooling their engines.

They were costing her lives, Vipers, and Raptors, and more anti-missile missiles and flak rounds that she wanted to spare. With the civie ships still here _Pegasus_ Vipers were diverted away from striking _back_ at the Cylons and locked into tight defensive patterns to run intercept on missiles and Raiders.

She inwardly shook her head and physically punched her thigh. Cynet had come in and fired so quickly… but their first strike had been erratic. They had seen the fleet and fired and less than a quarter of their missiles had full target packages loaded. Colonial electronic countermeasures had jammed, she guessed, at least half, and that left only a quarter for easy pickings.

But still.

They had lost over five hundred people and Viper and Raptor casualties were mounting. A Q ship was gone and _Helios _had taken a nuke and was heavily damaged.

The butcher's bill was still being tallied as more of her pilots and more of her crew shed their blood and were killed. Their courage forced them forward against overwhelming odds and their loyalty commanded them to stay and fight as they evacuated the planet.

Starbuck came on the horn and informed the Admiral of the plan she had.

Across the CIC Kendra Shaw listened with uneasely at what Admiral Cain was implying. She breathed in and out quickly but calmed herself and kept herself focused. There was a hole in the defense screen and she signaled for Vipers 104, 107, and 112 to cover the hole. Two guns on the port side were down and half the guns on the alligator head of the battlestar were reduced to local computer control. More missiles were getting through.

Point defense canons were still under central command. Soto was hooked in and using her incredibly powerful neural net to increase their effectiveness.

The Guardians had sent a bursted data transmission that they'd successfully infiltrated Cylon computers which had let them get their nukes in. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.

Captain Shaw's eyes chased more DRADIS contacts and focused down on the Heavy Raider blip approaching the planet. She knew they _should_ jump away. They _should_ set a broadside, load it with anti-ship nukes, and target the Temple. But they wouldn't. Not yet.

And she didn't _want_ that, either.

Shaw felt her hair damp from sweat and nervousness and felt frustrated she couldn't do more, couldn't be out there in a Viper and blasting Toasters from the sky. Her chest was sweating and she suddenly felt cold and her skin turned Goose bumps. She leaned back and glanced at the secondary tactical station at Lt. Haver's console. He looked back at her and they nodded to each other. She leaned forward to see his read outs and saw the rescue Raptors were still flying towards the planet.

There was a time stamp for ETA at the Temple site, but it was too long. The Heavy Raiders would get there first.

Captain Shaw heard the Admiral's voice boom. "_All hands, brace yourselves."_

The ship shuttered violently as two Blackbirds jumped from the port-side launch bays. Lights flickered and more ballistic glass on the CIC doors shattered. Shaw strained with tense muscles to keep her balance. She shot a concerned look behind her when the rumbles stopped to check the Admiral. Her attention was thrown back to her console as it began blasting warning sounds and flashing ruby red warning lights.

* * *

Hotdog came about and fired on more Raiders. There were more than he could count, more than he wanted to count. It was his fifth, or his sixth, maybe his seventh? He blinked away the uncertainty and told himself it didn't matter what number he was on. For all intents and purposes this Raider-and the Raiders within weapons range… and the missiles from the baseships… and all the flak… he cursed and just reminded himself _everything_ matter- this Raider mattered right now more than any other.

He brought his nose up ten degrees and banked to starboard and his index finger held his gun trigger steadily into the joystick. He felt four, five, six gees and his legs and knees tensed, but held, under the forces. He kept his foot locked on the pedal and his eyes fixed, but scanning, on the Raider.

The _Vigilantes_ and _Primus_ squadrons from _Galactica_ had pushed a lot of the Raiders from 'inside' the fleet formation towards the relative periphery and into the kill zones of the mighty battlestars and cruiser. Some Raiders had pocketed the old Colonial ships which still struggled to jump- _Selene_ jumped followed by _Orion_- but they'd been… to Hotdog… lucky.

_Selene _and _Orion_ had been a liner and a freighter, respectively, and had been racked by Raider fire. Fortunately the liner was a deep space transport, former military, and had armored tyllium tanks and redundant safeties. _Selene_ had jumped away, even if it had been venting atmosphere and left behind a thick cloud of debris. _Orion_ had been hit in the cargo hold and had belched its contents, but had jumped. Hotdog had only seen a relative handful of unlucky crewmen sucked out into space as they flailed in the vacuum and their bodies shut down.

His helmet HUD flashed red again and he fired, but before his bullets could reach out and swat the Raider from the battlefield it spun ninety degrees on its axis and the bullets whizzed by as its silhouette profile change. Hotdog sneered at this tricky Raider.

"Some trained dog," he whispered as he recalled how Boomer _and_ Athena had described the Raiders.

The Raider rapidly changed orientation and Hotdog swore their favorite new move was the hard six. His mind registered the maneuver half a second in. His finger pressed the trigger seven-tenths of a second later. His canons received the electrical impulse, whirled, and fired not a tenth of a second after that. The bullets rapidly sped off and slammed one after the other into the Raider and the kinetic energy overwhelmed the craft and pushed it down, presenting its entire ventral surface. Dozens of armor piercing, high explosive rounds struck armor, penetrated, and exploded inside.

"_Nice shooting, Hotdog,"_ Catman came over the wireless. "_Raider going after _Picon 36_ you're closest so go after the- HOTDOG!"_

Hotdog had been smirking at his latest kill but he put on the hard face of a fighter pilot as he switched focus to go after a Raider aiming for _Picon 36_. With hundreds of Raiders in the battle it was impossible for a human pilot to keep track of them all. DRADIS had them. But he was human; information overload. As good as Hotdog was, it only took one lucky shot. Half a dozen lucky shots stuttered across his Viper cockpit, painting it in his blood.

_Picon 36 _exploded and followed its would-be savior into the embrace of the Lords of Kobol.

* * *

Kara felt lightheaded and wanted to vomit. She'd rarely felt this sick after jumping and hacked as the pressure in her chest swelled. Frantically, furiously, and angrily her dark and bloodshot eyes searched the space around her for the Resurrection ships.

The CAG didn't even want to think of the damage she'd done to the ship with her and Narcho's stunt.

She tapped the thrusters and she spun. Her Starbuck grin washed over her face and her lips widened into a bright, toothy smile wide enough to almost crack her face in two. They were right above the resurrection ships by only a handful of kilometers. The sharp angled towers- signal receivers- of the resurrection ships were little pin points which splayed outward. The translucent tube housing the bodies of bio-Cylons was illuminated by powerful running lights which gave the awkward, strange impression this wasn't a ship, but a shrine or cathedral floating in space.

Her attention diverted from its majesty as her DRADIS beeped warnings. Her eyes locked on the signals and then caught the faint glow of thrusters as fifty Raiders and two dozen Heavy Raiders plowed and circled between the gargantuan vessels. The mission clock on her side display began counting down.

Starbuck tapped a silent, laser communication to Narcho and he acknowledged. No doubt the Raiders would be coming after them.

She pressed the arming button. No time to waste.

She pressed the fire button for the missiles.

She felt the bay doors open, vibrating under her seat as their motors whirled. She felt her Blackbird bounce up has the missile studs 'pushed' the missiles out of the bay. Then they ignited. Their miniature tyllium engines were the most powerful, the best Colonial-Guardian-Terminator technical expertise could achieve. They even had a small electronic countermeasures packet.

She looked next to her and Narcho flickered out of existence as his Blackbird jumped back to the fleet, to _Pegasus_. Starbuck stayed just an extra second to watch the bright sun form under the nose of her stealth ship and consume the two resurrection ships before jumping away.

* * *

The _Battleaxe_ squadron reformed as remnants from the _Vigilantes_ cruised in above and below. The Viper squadron had originally been packed full of nuggets after the death of so many pilots on the flight deck shortly after the Holocaust but after years of fighting were battle hardened and courageous.

Athena felt a deep loss as the report of Hotdog's death was sounded over the wireless. He was one more to add to dozens of pilots already killed and hundreds, thousands already lost to the Cylons. The _Vigilantes_ had lost Kat and Hotdog mere minutes apart. Four of their fifteen Vipers were destroyed but one pilot had managed to eject. The Cylon pilot prayed to God that the SAR Raptor would be able to recover _some_ of the pilots.

"_Athena pull up the squadron_," Captain Birch ordered over the wireless.

Athena clicked a reply and the _Battleaxes_ swooped up as the Viper's broke off. Scores of missiles leapt from the side pods and darted up and down and left and right as they evaded Raider fire and scored hits on dozens of Raiders.

Raptors, the 'school buses' of the Fleet were deadly beasts. With missile pods on the cabin and chain guns and missiles on the wings they could kill dozens of Raiders before running out of ammunition.

A grisly frozen rain of red blood splashed into the Raptors as they closed and flew through and the overshot the Raiders. Vipers pulled back and around and opened with their guns as Raiders desperately attempted to turn and present their guns to the Colonial craft.

Thirteen minutes into the engagement Vipers were in desperate need of rearmament. Her own Raptors were running low on missiles. Her racks were reduced to semi-guided rockets and the chain guns on her wing-tips barely had a thousand rounds each. She double-checked with a quick eye jerk down to the central control console and winced. A green, blocky numbered indicated her ammunition count was far worse; _724_.

She thumbed the fire button as a Heavy Raider pounced from above and swung the Raptor ninety degrees to put her on her 'side' relative to the Heavy Raider. Both chain guns activated but only the port gun's bullets made contact with the nose and belly of the Cylon attack craft.

The two swerved by each other close enough for Athena to see- with the help of her enhanced eyesight- the underside of the Heavy Raider get chewed up by her gun fire. Chunks of metal were flung off into space and the Heavy Raider began trailing tyllium fuel. It veered off, dropped its nose and banked then killed its thrusters as it attempted to limp back towards the Cylon baseships.

"Holy shit!" Crashdown yelled. "Radiological alarms are going crazy!"

"Oh frak!" Athena cursed as her eyes skimmed her DRADIS to lock onto nuclear missiles.

A Guardian Raider shot by barely two hundred meters in front of her cockpit on the trail of a limping Cylon Raider and she cursed as her hand jerk the Raptor.

Then she saw the flash, pinpoints really, off in the distance as a bright white light spewed magnificent illumination over the black, empty desolation of space itself. She pumped a fist as that silent tickle of worry in the back of her mind finally went silent. Cylons always knew when a resurrection ship was nearby and her smile was anything but awkward as she realized they'd managed to take out the only resurrection ships in the Cynet fleet.

"They got the frakers!" She whooped and excitedly turned back to her ECO. He smiled and nodded furiously before turning back.

"_Resurrection ships destroyed,"_ the voice of Colonel Tigh popped up over the wireless. "…_repeat… Galactica has been boarded by Cylon forces… repeat, Galactica-" _

"…frak…" Athena whispered.

* * *

Commander Thais stood confidently in the command center of his shaking baseships. Reports rushed over the Guardian data stream:

_Gunships Alpha Eighteen, Nineteen, Thirty-seven, Thirty-eight, Forty, Fifty-two destroyed… Raider Squadron One combat ineffective… Raider Squadron… heavy damage to ventral pylon stub two… port missile battery three destroyed… infiltration attempt 1-5-3-1 defeated… infiltration attempt 1-5-3-2 detected…_

"_Galactica has sustained heavy damage_…" he heard over a dedicated link to his liaison officers.

"_Helios has sustained heavy damage…"_ the liaison officer aboard the cruiser reported. "_Major Avion is seriously wounded…"_

Thais said a prayer for the humans who had lost their lives. His attention then split to a thousand different pin points in the vast web of interconnectedness which was the Guardian data stream. A part of his consciousness was monitoring each gunship and each Raider as it danced dangerously with its Cynet counterpart. He could watch each missile his ship fired as they swatted away Raiders and incoming Cynet missiles or they themselves were annihilated from the field of battle.

Enough of his consciousness was free to concentrate on fleet maneuvers and with the other AIs in the ships, had already located potential weaknesses in Cylon formations and sent his Raiders and Gunships to kill his errant brothers.

The baseship shuddered once again as one of his Raiders in air defense formation lost control after being caught in the withering fire of a Cynet Raider and slammed into the central axis connecting the small ventral portion of the baseship to its large, arrowhead shaped dorsal hull.

He focused a telescope on a small pursuit the Colonials had no chance of aiding if his Raiders failed. They'd accelerated to gees which would crush a Colonial pilot, even with compensators, and were entering weapons range.

Thais could see the fire sweeping the single-wing Guardian Raiders and pummeling over the bow of the Heavy Raiders as they raced through the atmosphere of the aptly named 'Algae Planet.'

A small part of him could even _feel_ the vibrations of his Raiders' canons as they opened fired and angrily spat hundreds of burning, armor piercing, and high explosive ammunition at the heavy Raiders in front of them.

Three Raiders and four Heavy Raiders. He had the maneuverability advantage but they had the firepower and durability advantage. The attack force's lead Raider spewed round after round into the Heavy Raider closest to the Guardian craft but it stubbornly refused to exploded.

Then Thais would have smiled if he had time, but the battle was moving so quickly, and he was in his gold armored Centurion body, he had no mouth even if he wanted to.

The first rearmost Heavy Raider began coming steadily apart as two Raiders opened fire on it. One of the many fragments of his consciousness simultaneously checked the status of his fleet. After seventeen minutes there were precious few Raiders or gunships with missiles and these three Raiders had none.

The Heavy Raider exploded in the upper atmosphere.

The remaining Heavy Raider and Guardian pursuit Raiders descended through a thick cloud layer but DRADIS kept them painted. One braked and turned and fired at the three Raiders as his fighters threw themselves into evasive action and-

"_Galactica has been boarded,"_ Captain Lexi reported.

"_How many?"_

"_Unk-"_

Massive interference emanating from within _Galactica_ cut off communication.

-one of his Raiders exploded under a willowing hail of bullets from the Heavy Raider's six front mounted chain canons. One of the remaining two Raiders had time to sweep up from under and annihilate that Cynet Heavy Raider but the trap had been sprung. Cynet sacrificed that craft and the Centurions aboard for the bigger picture; it always played for keeps. The other two Cynet transport/gunships turned and fired into the distracted Guardian craft. One of his fighters seemed to stutter and stall mid-air and then spontaneously exploded and sent a large part of its wing spiraling towards the ground and other debris raining through the atmosphere. The second was hit and trailing smoke but the crew regained control.

The remaining Raider fired point blank into the oncoming Heavy Raider and tore through its cockpit. It dodged the debris and opened fire and sprayed its guns at the two in front. Thais felt something, pride perhaps, in the exemplarily gunnery of his craft.

The two Heavy Raiders which had attempted to evade exploded as bullets ripped at them and tore into their hulls. The Guardian Raider then turned as the last remaining Heavy Raider fell in pursuit. It hit the aero-brakes and part of the powerful thrust from the rear engines were directed forward. The atmosphere puffed and clouds of white gas shot the Raider around towards its Cynet enemy.

Commander Thais saw his Raider shake and bullets smack the wing but the Heavy Raider overshot it.

The starboard engine on the Raider ignited but a two point one second burst of chain gun fire tore into the underbelly of the Cylon transport before the bullets gutted the engines. Debris and armor rained down and both craft exploded. Due to their proximity the fireball was magnificently grand.

As the Commander closed that window he said a prayer for the pilots. He looked down and his metal hand was balled.

_Nuclear detonations detected… resurrection ships destroyed… Cynet forces… retreating…_ blared over the data stream. Thousands of Guardian machines breathed a relative sign of electronic relief as Raiders began retreating…

The battle still raged as Raiders were forced to engage Vipers, Raptors, and Guardian gunships and fighters. He saw the battlefield, millions of cubic kilometers littered with debris. The broken hulk of a Colonial cruise liner drifted silently in space. He imagined a small _pop_ sound as part of the forward section of… _Picon 36 _exploded and blew out of the cockpit…

His mind raced as it processed the changing battlefield conditions. His Raiders and Gunships needed to rearm. There were dozens of hull breeches his Centurions needed to repair.

Minutes passed by. Commander Thais was perfectly still as he stood in the CIC of the Guardian warship. Linked in, he had no reason to move, no need to verbalize his commands. Even Iblis, there in the CIC watching, was 'quiet' and still.

Some minutes later his roving crimson eye stopped as a message was dumped into his MCP data processing nodes:

_Radiological alarm… Pegasus_ _opening nuclear planetary strike silos_….

* * *

President Roslin was shaken and battered and her breath was uneven and stuttered. It was shallow and she felt light headed. There were bruises all over her body, her back was burning with pain, and her ribs were undoubtedly bruised from the Raptor ride.

Her hand reached out and the dark-skinned hand of her aide, Tory Foster, grabbed her elbow. The quick reactions of the President's former campaign manager kept her from collapsing onto the deck of the CIC of _Pegasus_.

"Madam President it is good to see you alive," Admiral Cain managed to plainly state in the midst of battle. "We took out the resurrection ships." She pointed to DRADIS. "We're taking a hell of a beating, sir."

Roslin felt herself weightless, hanging in the air, the battle nothing more than a surreal… dream, nightmare. She couldn't stop her chest constricting as the death of Billy Kreikeya flooded over her once again. Tory ushered her to the side of CIC and had her lean against the bulkhead. The young woman bent down and looked her president in the eye.

She yelled something to the Marine guard to get the President some water, to get a medic up here, but Roslin waved it away and dismissed the suggestion. Her eyes hurt… one of her glasses lenses were shattered.

The President's hand, shaking, took them off and gripped them tightly in her hand. Tory somehow wrestled them from her control.

"It was quick, Madam President." She said. Tory mentally grimaced and dared bite her tongue as the ship shook and wavered as missiles struck and pecked at its armor plates.

"I… I…" she stuttered. "So many deaths…" she locked her eyes shut and pushed Tory away and wiped the tears. Roslin took back her glasses and once again holding them saw the single lens and black frame stained with a streak of dried blood in the corner and she frantically padded them to wipe off the blood.

Tory grabbed her hands and stilled her and then gently took the glasses and cleaned them with a shirt covered in sweat, grime, and blood. Laura looked up and saw the blood still trickling down a cut in Tory's forehead and saw her aide wince as she moved her hand to clean her glances. She smiled appreciation when Tory handed them back.

"Tory, are you okay?" Roslin asked as she found herself. The cries of a dying crew member, burned and scalded in the corner of CIC rung loudly in her ears. _There are others besides me_, she told herself.

"I'm fine… flesh wound," Tory said with a half-hearted smile. She coughed and wiped her forehead, smearing the blood across her cheek.

"Madam President!" She heard. It was Cain. "The Raiders are pulling back from the attack."

Roslin pushed off from the wall and balanced herself.

She dared a cough as the smoke overwhelmed the air scrubbers and filled her lungs.

Cain's head snapped towards the left side of the CIC. "Mr. Hoshi. Recall our Vipers and Raptors by priority. I want them refueled and rearmed immediately."

"How many ships…?" Roslin asked, walking carefully up besides the Admiral.

"_Astral Queen… Colonial One…" _Roslin couldn't listen to the rest of the names. There was a pause and Cain continued. "Madam President… current estimates are over fifteen hundred dead minimum." Admiral Cain sourly, quietly said with bowed her. She was watching readouts scroll on her command screen though to Roslin it seemed like she was being reverent. "_Helios_ is heavily damaged and _Galactica_ has been boarded-" Cain saw the flash of utter horror as the memory of the past boarding action lighted Roslin's face "-but Commander Thais has Centurions en route and we have Marine combat teams-"

"Sir!" Mr. Hoshi yelled out. "We're receiving a transmission, sir… from the Cylons…"

Admiral Cain and Roslin exchanged looks of bafflement. Cain's eyebrow cocked up in morbid curiosity… maybe the Cynet frakers were turning yellow. Maybe they were too afraid to _die_ and were cowards. The Admiral rolled her eyes and inwardly grinned at the thought. The Cylons _were_ cowards. The entire attack on the Colonies proved it and without their precious resurrection none of them wanted to die.

"Blackbirds re-entering the flight pods," Shaw reported.

"Very well, Mr. Hoshi… get Starbuck and Narcho into Vipers just in case. I want everything reloaded and get FTL coordinates for tactical jumps above the Cylon ships if we have to." Cain nodded to herself and pulled at her tunic and flattened it. She fingered her pistol and then nodded back to the Captain. "… put it on speakers."

"_Admiral…"_

"Who are you?" Cain asked. Everyone knew the voice of John Cavil. This was not John Cavil. The voice was deep, confident, and completely devoid of the patronizing tones the Number One bio-Cylon spoke in. It wasn't mechanical, it wasn't human, but a mix of the two.

"_You know who I am,"_ it said. "_You have something and someone I want. Give them to me and you may live."_

Cain barred her teeth at the ceiling and DRADIS displays angrily. Shaw walked over and whispered into her ear.

"I don't know what you're talking about…" Cain trailed off. She hit the mute on the microphone and turned to Shaw. "I want options for long range nuclear strikes on their fleet!" She hissed.

Her eyes, stained with the death the Cylons had inflicted and darkened by rage tracked eight Heavy Raiders swarming low for the planet on DRADIS. Vipers couldn't intercept them in time.

"_I can destroy you easily_," it boomed over the speakers. "_Give me Daniel and the Earth machines."_

Cain surveyed her command crew briefly. The officers and the Terminator at her station were all standing. Soto walked over and the hatred and fire that glittered in those hard eyes could have rivaled Cain's.

"We just destroyed your capability to resurrect in this battle and destroyed one of your ships. They're dead. We're still here." Admiral Cain definitely responded. Roslin shot her a look. "We haven't begun to fight."

"_Exactly. You are still here. And your civilian ships are gone. I know you found it. Give me the Temple and give me Daniel and the Earth machines and you can leave. Stop your quest for Earth immediately. Return to the Colonies and you can live out your lives. My fight is not with you unless you continue."_

Admiral Cain closed her eyes and thought. Three years ago she would have cut her losses but now… she felt the tug of war within her as her darker side pulled hard at her soul and yanked it towards that dark abyss.

"Your fight is not with us?" she asked. Her eye ticked. "Not with us?" she repeated, the words almost burning her throat. "You destroyed our world. You murdered our civilization. You have hunted us and tortured us across thousands of light years. You are death… but you're right. I can end it now." Cain agreed. She typed in a command and sent it to navigation. The battlestar rolled subtly and moved closer towards the planet.

"_You can have peace."_ It said.

DRADIS beeped as a dozen Heavy Raiders appeared to be moving towards the planet.

The Admiral hit the button to cut the feed to the speakers and lifted her phone…

* * *

"_Peace?"_ Cavil sneered.

The robotic Cynet avatar cared nothing for his outburst.

"_Our resurrection ships are destroyed and our baseships lack the capacity to resurrect the fleet… despite what _you_ may condone, I won't sacrifice my fleet… not at the moment, at least. Not with the rebels out there."_

"_Acceptable loses-"_ Cavil began.

"_I am fully aware what war requires, Cavil." _Cynet said. The conversation had lasted barely half a second.

"_We can take them and end them all now…" _he paused for a microsecond_. "You're dispatching Heavy Raiders…"_ The radiological alarms blared through the minds of all the command Cylons.

* * *

…Roslin whispered. "What are you planning?"

"Captain Shaw!" She barked, ignoring the president. "This is a nuclear launch order. Open _ALL_ nuclear launch tubes. Target the Temple for ground zero."

She looked at Soto and the machine gave her silent approval.

Cain held the machine's eyes for a moment, but it stepped back. Undoubtedly the female machine had run this scenario through its neural net thousands, millions of times in the span of a few short seconds. Even with two battlestars, a cruiser, and the Guardians the odds were in Cynet's favor. It outnumbered the Colonials in Raiders heavily and reinforcements may be on the way.

Cain knew that Soto knew the Temple could not all into the clutches of Cynet. Not after what they'd seen the first day when Starbuck had activated it. If it did lead to Earth Cynet could not have it. John, Carter, Daniel, Erica, RC, Apollo, and everyone else on the planet would be sacrificed to keep that secret.

"Are you prepared to do this?" Roslin asked, voice shaking. She looked at Soto when she saw the resolve in Cain's eyes. "Are you prepared to see them die?" She asked the machine. Roslin might have been hoping for the unstoppable killing machine to intervene, but it did nothing. It just stood there and Roslin felt impotent in her fear.

Soto's pseudo-muscles in her eyes moved so subtly but there was no misinterpreting what the female machine was prepared to do. This was her life, her existence. She and Carter and John had fought side by side for over three decades. But they were machines. She was built to kill. John and Carter were built to kill. They were born in nuclear fire. It was almost fitting, maybe even poetic, for them to be taken back in such a manner.

Cain covered the phone's receiver with her hand. "Can you communicate with them?" She asked the machine.

She shook her head. "No. The jamming is intense." She paused. "We all know the risks, Admiral. We're Terminators, machines, we know our duty to Earth."

The Admiral nodded shallowly and focused on the President. "We can't let them have Earth… they won't give us peace. I'm going to nuke the temple from orbit." Her eyes darkened. They glowed with a dark fire. "It's the only way to be sure."

"Are you prepared to sacrifice-"

"Absolutely."

Cain slammed the button to turn the receiver on. She grabbed the thin metal cord and pressed it between hand and hand piece. She held up the receiver centimeters from her mouth.

"_What are you doing Admiral-"_

"Withdraw your Heavy Raiders or I will nuke the planet."

The wireless burped static.

Admiral Cain felt the fire growing. "You will stand down. Or I _will_ nuke the planet. You will have _nothing_. Know this: we will not stop, we will not yield. If you dare move closer to the planet we will destroy it. You will _never_ find Earth. All you will know is the taste of bitter defeat. We have fought you outnumbered and outgunned… we have stood victorious and defiant for a million light years. For years we have evaded you, _hunted you_, and _killed you_. We will not stop killing you… our imperative is war… and your complete and utter total annihilation. You _will_ stand down."

She saw the red circles move closer and closer to the planet… the words in her mouth began to form as the nuclear launch bays were opened, the targeting packages loaded, and hundreds of megatons of nuclear ordnance were prepared.

Admiral Cain reached in under her collar. Her hand brushed the scars on her neck and chest and she wrapped her fingers around the silver chain which hung around her neck. She pulled it out and let it rest on her chest.

She walked to the planetary strike console and pressed her hand onto the scanner. Her other hand reached up to remove her launch key.

"Mr. Hoshi, prepare-"

The Heavy Raiders turned back as she wet her lips and prepared to give the order. She closed her eyes and thanked the gods.

Unknown to the fleet Heavy Raiders had already landed on the planet in the confusion of the opening battle. And with the Cylons jamming so intense, they had no idea what had materialized in the temple. They had no idea that they had been granted a second chance to stop the Cylons from finding and wiping out every living man, woman, child, and machine on Earth.


	35. Chapter 35

|||||||||=====In orbit of the Algae Planet=====|||||

"The Cylon fleet is… they're pulling out… what the frak?" Mr. Gaeta perplexedly frowned at the DRADIS and tapped a few of the dirtied buttons. He ran a sweaty palm through even wetter hair and breathed out as his mind caught up with his eyes. His DRADIS screen was smeared with grime and debris and he wiped it away, brushing the pieces of glass and plastic onto the deck. "They pulling back…?" He said, half a statement, half a question.

"That's great," Tigh said through a furious cough. His fist pounded the cracked data console and its lights strobe before stuttering off. "That's great but we have fraking Cylons on board!" He sneered, a spot of blood-red spittle ejecting onto the deck. "Helo!" His head twisted towards the sound of his second yelling back. "What do we have?" He stepped over debris and kneeled to help a wounded crewman.

"Helo," Adama said, splitting his focus,, "start coordinating Marine fast response teams and set up a command post at tactical. You'll need to use portable wireless-"

"Sir… I'm picking up radiological alarms… _Pegasus_ is opening their nuclear silos-" Gaeta said slowly.

"Why the hell would they do that?" Tigh asked, looking up from the wounded crewman and handing him off to a pair of medics.

"Message coming in on the laser com relay, Commander," Gaeta quickly informed Adama. He pointed the aged and battle-bruised Commander towards Dee and turned to work on his own problems which numbered in the dozens.

Adama looked over and saw a hard, distracted face. She was keying something into her keyboard as Adama half jogged, half stalked over. "Petty Officer…" she looked up at him and he couldn't resist the large, hazel doe eyes staring back at him, "The President was on her way here… there's a chance he's still alive…" he tried to comfort her, "…that he was on the Raptor with her to _Pegasus_." He leaned down and grabbed her shoulder, not hard or menacingly, but forcefully as her superior officer to snap the young communications tech back to her duty. The young woman swatted away a small tear threatening to roll down her cheek and nodded. "What's the lascom from _Pegasus_ say, Petty Officer."

Dee sniffed and wiped at her nose with the end of her long-sleeve jacket. The jacket was covered in grime and sweat and dotted with small patches of blood; her blood and others. She tapped the necessary keys- and had to hit one extra hard that was probably damaged during the attack and stuck- and reached to her right and took out the printer copy.

Half the stations in CIC were gutted with DC crewman crawling on their backs and stomachs pulling wires, replacing damaged components, and just trying to get a handle on the charred mess of the battlestar's CIC.

She handed Adama a slip of octagonal, cream-colored paper. It read: "_To Galactica: Contacted by Cynet and given ultimatum to hand over Daniel, the Terminators, and the Eye of Jupiter. Pegasus Actual has determined the Eye to be of strategic importance."_ Adama looked over his shoulder and held the paper at an angle so Tigh, now behind him, could read with him. He heard a low, throaty groan from his XO as they read. "_Once Centurion boarding parties are repelled move to navigation point- Pegasus relative- 003, 041, 01 carrim 053 to target planetary strike nuclear weapons on the Temple. Galactica will hold fire unless Pegasus launches. Do not wait for confirmation. End message."_

Adama handed the message to his XO, who read it just one more time to be sure and then Tigh balled the paper and threw it to Dee's feet. "Petty Officer," Adama said in a strained voice, "begin reply: _To Pegasus_: _Galactica Actual acknowledges message and upon successful repulsion of Centurion boarding parties will move to indicated position and target the Temple with planetary strike nuclear missiles. End message."_ He closed his eyes as Dee finished typing in the last message, read it back to him, and inwardly shuttered as he nodded his head. The rage inside him was building; he was expected to kill his own son. Outwardly he remained the calm and composed commander his crew needed.

He wasn't a man who smiled, and he didn't towards Dee. But a look from her commander and she nodded, her silence and her eyes telling him she was committed to her duties, the tragedy of _Colonial One_'s loss temporarily boxed and put aside as a professional sailor was expected to do in times of tragedy.

He focused himself back to the fight. There were tens of thousands of people counting on him, tens of thousands who had lost their _entire_ family and even right in front of him, a petty officer who may have lost the man she loved minutes before.

The second message handed him was brief but detailing that Raptors with Marine fire teams, Soto, and Guardian craft were incoming to repel the Centurions.

He ran his hands through his own dirty hair and wiped a smug of oil and grime from his cheek. The message paper fluttered down to the deck, to be trampled by corpsmen as they maneuvered the wounded around CIC.

"I need reports on our response teams!" He called out.

The Colonel sniffed the air and his eyes scanned the tattered CIC. There was a distinguishable burning smell which hung defiantly in the air as overtaxed scrubbers strained to cleanse the air. There were half a dozen of the dozens of CIC personnel on stretchers or being tended to. The Cylon frakers, Saul Tigh thought, had hit them hard and fast and no one could have seen them coming… Tigh then went taut and threw back his shoulders. He balled a fist and tapped it on the outside of his thigh and clicked his teeth.

"Major Agathon! Update on counter-boarding actions!" Tigh bellowed.

Helo handed off a wounded crewman to a medic, nodded to the young woman he was tending to she'd be alright, and pushed back a conduit which had fallen loose from the ceiling.

Tigh held back a grimace at the blood drenching his left sleeve- not his blood- and the colonel rocked on his toes and frowned when he saw the young face of Petty Officer Third Class Mira Franz, part of Lieutenant Susan Yu's atrogation division, cut open from one side of the forehead to the other. He assumed she must have fallen during one of the missile strikes and been killed by the force of her fall.

Her eyes stared up, hallow. Tigh bent down, swallowed, and held out a balled hand which slowly opened. He ran it across her face, closing her eyes.

Major Agathon stepped up beside the colonel coughed and palmed the command console. He frowned down at it and looked back up, searching for a DC crewman who was available to fix it, or do something. He tapped on it again and it whirred, flickered, but died again, finally getting the old relic to flutter back to life with a hand open-palm strike.

The illuminated command console was dotted with little windows for different ship functions and Helo began tapping at the screen's selection buttons, pulling up menus and diagrams of the ship.

Helo tapped a set of keys on the command console and the map of _Galactica_ flashed on the screen. Small orange circle, pulsing, illuminated where the crew believed the Cylons were.

"How bad is it?" Adama asked, stepping up beside the tac officer.

"It looks like maybe only one Heavy Raider got in, Bill," Tigh said with concern. "But still…" he trailed off with a shake of the head as his eyes moved up and down the diagram of _Galactica_ displayed on the board.

"…reports of two Cylons on the forward pylon connecting the starboard landing pod to the main hull." Helo pointed. "There's another three somewhere roaming the pod…" He turned and grabbed a sheet of paper. "There's a report or another group of two to four… Frak… these aren't normal Centurions…"

Lexi, their little personal Guardian liaison robot, as if appearing from nowhere, cocked her head. "Please explain-" she began in an infinitely patient, calm voice contrary to the dire condition _Galactica_ found herself in.

"Sir, we have Guardian ships inbound requesting clearance to land Centurion forces to repel-" Mr. Gaeta yelped and yanked off his ear piece as a shrill, nails-on-chalkboard whine shot through CIC. Each speaker blared the deafening noise and everyone cringed, flinched, and groaned as their auditory senses were overwhelmed. He frantically switched off internal comes. "They're jamming us… like the first time." He said over his shoulder as alarms went off on his console. Tigh hopped over and demanded an explanation. "Sir… they're retracting the landing pods!" Gaeta said and hurriedly turned to the Colonel for orders.

"How the frak are they doing that… Gods damnit they're in the LSO shack." Tigh cursed as a dark realized set in. Where the Heavy Raider had landed was right under the central LSO shack. He muttered a second string of curses under his breath and stalked back to the central command console.

The airlock door from the flight deck led to a corridor and an access ladder which took them right up to the corridor leading to the Landing Signal Officer's 'shack' which controlled everything from the landing system to deck service lights to emergency pod retraction.

"Guardian craft can't dock at our external airlocks, sir," Helo said. Tigh's eyes angrily widened- he knew- and he tapped the console. "Sir… the Centurions they're different… we have reports coming in that these are taller, more heavily armored."

Colonel Tigh's eyes glared and silently demanded an explanation.

"I don't know, this is all the information we have sir…" Helo reluctantly said, a corner of his mouth flicking up in an apologetic gesture. He offered the note a crewmember had written before the communication lines were jammed and the wireless was near useless.

"I think the gods have us cursed, Major," Tigh bellowed and then chuckled cryptically. "We already have Marines at the critical junctions-"

Colonel Tigh saw the Guardian machine moving up to stand opposite him and the Commander at the console. He looked up as she interrupted him. For a second he envied how calm she was. There was no fear in her face.

"It's my understanding that last time this vessel was boarded there were significant casualties?" Captain Lexi asked, though her tone was more of a statement than a question. She tilted her head and stared unblinking as Tigh and Helo looked back. "And the jamming may be coming from the Heavy Raider… it needs to be disabled."

"All our cameras in that section of the ship are out," Tigh said, tapping on the console to emphasize his point.

"Yeah… we had seventy-three killed last time," Helo said sorrowfully. The tone in his voice was grave and he'd lowered his chin and was watching the Guardian with narrowed eyes. "We had to use explosive rounds. Their armor was thicker than on the standard bullet head."

Lexi nodded and stepped back. "Commander Adama, I request permission to offer my… services," the corner of her mouth twitched up, "to your Marines and aide them in repelling the Centurions."

Commander Adama didn't have to think twice. He didn't particularly _like_ this new 'Captain Lexi' and though of her more as an interloper or spy but let himself cautiously thank the gods. He and Tigh had discussed the possibilities she was spying or at least, reporting to Commander Thais. Though the Guardians had done nothing for Adama to truly question their sincerity in aiding humanity he just didn't like it. And a chance to save humans at the expense of a robot he barely knew?

"Permission granted." He nodded curtly.

* * *

Captain Aaron Kelly, hands shaking, slowly pulled the scrap of shrapnel from his side. "Gods…" he stuttered, spittle flying onto his blue and bloodied uniform tunic. He'd seen the Cylon Heavy Raider crash into the flight pod. He'd ordered a bulldozer to shove it out the end of the pod ASAP. But a Centurion had jumped out and popped the crewman in the head with a well aimed burst to the head.

Of course in vacuum there hadn't been any sound. But Kelly had heard the dark melody of gunfire too many times over the last three years. There were no sound waves rushing towards his ears, but that didn't mean he didn't swear he heard the gunshots.

There was the bright white muzzle muscle… the Centurion hadn't even bothered to raise its arm… didn't even seem to really aim… it was just so, so casual, to Kelly, how the Centurion had murdered the deck hand.

Even if it had been imagined, the gunshots, why did it matter? They'd happened, the crewman he'd ordered to bulldoze the Heavy Raider was dead and everyone around him was bloodied and dead.

Hewasn't even sure how he'd survived.

He closed his eyes and the waking nightmare began.

Kelly could still see the blood splash against the plastic panes in the bulldozer's cabin. Whoever it was in that bulldozer, even dead, still managed to knick the Cylon craft and pin part of it against the inside bulkheads and crush part of its cabin. Those transports could carry, he guessed, maybe twenty Centurions if they were packed tight… and gods! The Centurions. They were black-gray, dark, and he swore their red eye was closer to the color of blood than the older models.

It was that eye, roving, left to right and right to left, just searching. And how it locked in place when it had a target! He felt a chill and his skin prickled as he physically shivered.

He saw more. Those claws were long, razor sharp. One of the Centurions had looked up at him and, Kelly wasn't sure, but flexed his claws in front of its chest as if taunting him. Then it had opened fire.

The LSO shack's ballistic plastic was thick and reinforced and could take a Viper crash (indirectly). He'd definitely heard _those_ bullets smack into the plastic and remembered he'd dropped to a knee, as had the other two, in fear.

He'd ordered the landing crew to get the frak out and considered, for a brief second, to stay and defend the LSO shack… then realized the two seconds it would take (and that was being generous he know considered) for the Centurions to slice his head off wouldn't do much. Nothing. No, he got out of there and went looking for a Marine detail to grab a gun and actually do something useful… or so he tried, at least.

For a minute he'd felt he had been abandoning his post, letting the ship down. Maybe he should have destroyed the equipment?He guessed the Cylons might want to retract the pods but they'd gone over in detail counter-boarding actions by either _Pegasus, _Galactica, or _Helios _should the other be boarded in some insane replay of what happened to the Beast.

Now, sitting hunched against the bulkhead and bleeding… at least he'd found that Marine detail, got a rifle, and was able to fight back instead of getting gunned down like a cornered animal in the shack…

"Oh… frak me…" he heard beside him. His fingers had tightened around the weapon. But Cylons didn't talk like that, so he relaxed his grip.

"Sergeant?" he muttered, surprised and wary. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined the voice or... He shook his head cleared and wiped the sweat and tears from his eyes. He winced as he carelessly brushed an eye with his sleeve.

He closed his eyelids and blinked quickly, but his left eye was blurry. He closed the left and saw perfectly with the right. Then he closed the right to double check… his shoulders dropped slowly as the left eye was blurry again and opened both. His vision wasn't too bad but he figured it wouldn't be the twenty/twenty it had been… he groaned. Someone else groaned.

"Hadrian?" he whispered in a quiet hiss as his mind finally recognized whose voice was attached to the 'oh frak me' curse a few seconds back.

His head darted left and right nervously and his left hand, sweaty and cruised, gripped an M-18 service pistol with a Mark 3 Mod 1 Explosive Ordnance Launcher. His right hand shaking , and using the deck to keep his hand still, he loaded an explosive round that had dropped to the floor into the Mk 3… he felt it click in and he felt a warm, viscous fluid on his hand and turned it over.

Then he felt his pants were yet, around the outer thigh and lower leg, and his buttocks. He was sitting in a pool of blood. Kelly managed to hold back a gag.

"Kelly?" he heard. His ears twitched.

"Jill?"

"Frak… no one calls me by my first name." The hard-as-nails master-at-arms complained with a gruff friendliness.

He saw a dead body pushed off another and the staff sergeant groaned and grabbed her head. She stopped and took a quick second to massage her temple and shake her head out, blinking and licking her lips to orient herself.

Kelly pulled himself over to her and extended a hand- bloodied- and she grabbed it with a gloved one. Heaving, he helped pull her out from under the body and propped her up against the bulkhead.

"I've never seen those models before… frak… now I know what the _Beast_ Marines felt like with the Guardians." She rubbed her temple. "Are you okay?" She asked when her eyes caught the blood on his tunic.

Kelly waved it off. "A flesh wound." His belly pulsed with the laugh and he barred teeth and sucked in a breath in pain. He lifted up his shirt and flinched at the gash and poked it. "I won't do that again." Hadrian looked at him. "Laugh… or poke it." He explained. She nodded.

They heard footsteps behind them, human, and then seemingly both rolled their eyes when a petite woman in a black on black uniform jogged up.

"Staff Sergeant Hadrian, Captain Kelly…" she said and kneeled. "You're both injured." Her head cocked to the left and she looked over her shoulder. "We need to move."

They both stared at the young woman, no, machine, as she checked the other bodies.

Kelly stood up and held out a bloody hand to help Hadrian. He remembered the blood and wiped it on his pants and held it back out.

They shuffled back before the bulkhead as Lexi checked the Marines. She stripped off an armored vest and handed it to Kelly and searched for more explosive rounds.

Hadrian had an M-38 rifle with an Mk 4 Mod 2 EOL which was larger and longer than the Mk 3 on the pistol. Hers held eight explosive rounds, similar to a shotgun, and was semi-automatic. The Mk4 had been designed to slip onto the rails of the Colonial rifles and sub-machine guns.

The M-38 rifle trigger could be used to fire the Mk 4 with a flick of the fire selector. She dutifully checked her rifle and watched the corridor as Kelly found a rifle, checked the magazine, and took a position to watch their back.

Lexi had a pistol but her mouth twitched in a mischievous grin, one they'd seen the Earth machine show on occasion, when she rolled a Marine and found an M-38 rifle with an under slung launcher.

The Colonial military had developed the explosive ordnance launcher during the first Cylon War to push back the Cylon boarding parties. Forty millimeter grenades were not something one wanted to be firing in the tight confines of a space ship. Even the small rounds, if fired too close, could cause serious injury to a human shooter. It had been a compromise. A headshot or center mass shot was needed to take out a Centurion and even then, only a head shot was really assured to do it. The armor on the chest was fairly thick and since it sloped, the explosive round may not always penetrate.

"Do you know where the Centurions went?" Lexi asked. "Or how many?" She stripped a final Marine of his vest and threw it over her much smaller body. It had flash bangs, a grenade, and spare magazines for the EOL and for the rifle.

"What are the Cylons doing?" Kelly asked the Guardian as he slapped the velco and snuggled into the vest.

"They have control of the LSO shack." She stated simply. "And have retracted the flight pods… Guardian raiders and gunships cannot connect with your docking collars." She didn't need to explain that was a deliberate design change due to the Cylon War. "We have Centurions on the hull attempting to cut in and it is taking time for your engineers to override the airlock safeties… time we may not have."

She handed them each more explosive rounds.

"We need to stop them," Hadrian said. Kelly and Lexi both nodded. Hadrian looked at her squad and the four dead Marines and an orange jumpsuit of a crewman slumped on the far bulkhead. The dead knuckle dragger's eyes were open, staring vacantly at the Marine. She swallowed. "You mind… uh… if you take lead?" She asked, shaking herself and breaking eye contact with the dead sailor. Her brows were creased down sympathetically at the dead Marines. Her dead Marines.

Her jaws and muscles tensed. She shrugged her shoulders back and cracked her neck, hearing the vertebrae pop.

The smirk flashed again on Lexi's pseudo-skin. "Of course, staff sergeant."

She took a step forward but stopped when she heard Hadrian move in the opposite direction. The Marine was closing the eyes of the dead woman.

* * *

Colonel Tigh tugged at his uniform tunic and straitened his gig line. He stood back and extended his neck and silently mouthed the situation to him as it appeared on DRADIS. Helo was coordinating with the Marines and Mr. Gaeta on the dire situation which was growing worse by the minute with the Centurion boarding parties as he studied DRADIS readouts. He still had to know where the Cylon fleet was. Tigh was confident they could defeat the Centurions-

Commander Adama was next to him, studying the _Galactica_'s internal defenses (bulkheads and pressure doors basically) and ways to contain the Cylons.

Last time they'd gone for auxiliary damage control. Not this time.

"We have footage!" a Marine corporal… Tigh narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember the name, ran forward. He shoved the data card into a slot on the console. "We got this from a security feed outside the forward brig."

The XO nodded and scooted over to the side command console Gaeta and Helo were on. Gaeta keyed up the display and a translucent black rectangle appeared on the board, crackled as black and white snow appeared, and then produced eight seconds of horrifying footage.

The Centurions, armored in black-gray armor stood twenty centimeters taller than the previous models and appeared to be far more deadly. Two were in frame. One had something which looked like a rifle but could be described with slight exaggeration as some sort of fraking canon.

"I think it was only a matter of time before they developed new Centurions," Adama said thoughtfully, pointing a finger and running it over the Centurion's chest and head. "The design differences aren't extreme, but… count on their armor being thicker. We'll need explosive rounds for these."

"Sir," the corporal reported, "we have reports that explosive rounds are not as effective but initial casualty listing are extensive. We have eighty-seven confirmed dead already. Tenty-three of those are Marines, thirty-one air crew, and the rest ship personnel. Two civilians."

"Frak!" Tigh cursed. He bent down at the console as it began to flash red all over the battlestar's schematic diagram. "They've opened half a dozen compartments to space in the landing bays. There's nearly three hundred crew stuck in the Viper hangers… but the Centurions seem to be staying out of there for now. Corporal, pass the word for Marines to secure the tyllium tanks and all entrances to the hanger deck and munitions lockers."

"They're probably just trying to keep the Marines pinned down, keep the crew confined?" Helo asked as his eyebrows arched and he studied the diagram. The Cylon's known path was mark in a green line, starting at the flight deck and winding its way around the maze of corridors in the pod. "It's impossible to directly open the Viper maintenance areas to space but opening up these compartments," he pointed to the display, "would lock the airtight hatches. You confine three hundred people that means three hundred fewer people who could get a rifle and start shooting."

"Three hundred sitting ducks," Tigh grumbled.

Commander Adama nodded at his third in command. "And they've successfully forced nearly sixty Marines to go the long way around the central fuel storage tanks and munitions magazines," Adama outlined. "With trams out-"

"And the tight confines of that area it'll take them too long to get back to that side of the ship, sir." Tigh finished for his friend. Adama acknowledged with a thoughtful hum and frowned. "But we've got nearly two hundred Marines in this area and more armed crew…"

"But with them spread out on a dozen separate decks that thins their numbers at each checkpoint," Helo countered, rubbing his chin. "I mean, they could be heading for the forward magazines, thruster controls, auxiliary fuel storage, or even the nuclear missiles."

"Or here," Adama said quietly. He looked up at his officers and back down at the console. "They're not going to stay in the pod-"

He felt the deck shiver and reflexively grabbed the console before almost being thrown to the deck.

"Explosive decompressions along frames zero three seven to zero five six!" A DC crewman yelled out from his station. "Compartments zero zero to zero six."

"Right against the hull…" Tigh snarled, grimacing. "They'd need at least something equivalent to G5 explosives to do that."

Adama sucked in a heavy breath through his nostrils, his eyes closed, his mind raced as he envisioned the Centurions charging through the corridors and inflicting more death and devastating on his beloved ship and crew than the first time after Kobol. They had none of their terminators aboard, only a Guardian of unknown capabilities, and he felt a cavernous pit in his stomach and a sensation of dread work its way up his spine, tingling, before he shook it away.

Explosive. Heavily modified Centurions. No terminators to help. Almost a hundred dead already. Explosive decompressions.

This wasn't going to end well. But he had a job to do.

* * *

Captain Lexi walked confidently in front of both Captain Aaron Kelly and Staff Sergeant Jill Hadrian. The machine was the embodiment of calm and poise, the two humans trying to mimic her compsure, finding some comfort in following a literal death machine into combat rather than facing it.

They had been slowly approaching the LSO shack which was a deck up, four frames over, and two compartments forward from where the three had met.

They'd encountered two bodies so far. One had been riddled with bullets and one had been decapitated. The blood had geysered all over the bulkheads and stained the light fixtures. The pod was a house of fraking horrors; something which would forces Ares himself into sorrow at the sight.

Kelly added one more man to the list as they rounded a corner. There was no decency in what the Cylons had done to these people, his friends, and his shipmates.

Personnel were savagely mauled or shot. The rifles the Centurions were using would make the kill count extreme and Centurions were never afraid to charge. The charge of a Centurion was psychological. Even the most hardened soldier or Marine could break when a Centurion charged in the tight confined and constricted corridors of a battlestar, or any ship.

The Guardian machine felt very little, if any apprehension. Indeed, she had never felt fear before and while she drew on a few select memories of those who had created her from their pasts, she was unsure what the electrical signal in her MCP could be interpreted as.

Even as the fleet had starved around her and threatened to fall apart, she had not felt the fear running through the last survivors of the Colonies. She tried to _feel_ as they did. She understood their fear, intellectually, but in truth she couldn't fully empathize.

While she was barely a few months old she did have 'memories' which aided her in her development. They had stated she was developing faster than her two opposites aboard _Helios_ and _Pegasus_ and was pleased. She had expressed remorse earlier in the pilot briefing room, before coming to this algae planet.

Bonds with humans were strange. Even without the Guardian society it was difficult to describe the bonds which formed between separate and yet collective nature machine AI's; describing them in human terms was utterly futile. Even finding a suitable word such as 'friends' or even 'colleague' or 'shipmate' was inadequate. Individuality was far different as part of a network where every thought and experience could be shared, where such things were encouraged yet discouraged, to prevent the machine equivalent of 'group think' common in human settings.

Bonds? She felt a need to protect Kelly and Hadrian, though she did not 'know' them, nor considered them 'friends.' She had recruited them and now felt… responsible?

It was an interesting sensation which would need to be explored later. It was a thought process which needed immediate termination.

The petite machine stopped and signaled to Kelly and Hadrian with a closed fist. She crept forward, ever slowly and so quiet it was like she walked on air, to the next bulkheads. Lexi pressed her back into it and cautiously put a foot in front of her and leaned forward…

Her eyes zoomed in on a shadow cast onto a bulkhead half way down the fifty meter long corridor. The LSO shack was dead set in the middle and she saw the hatch had been bent open and hanging loose from its hinges. It was a pressure hatch but built nowhere near as strong as the ones in the main hull. The Centurions had had no difficulty dislodging it.

Lexi's head moved back slowly as she saw the shadow move. From the running lights in the flight pod the shadow of an obviously heavily damaged Centurion was laid into the corridor and up the wall. She almost smiled when she saw the shadow's left arm ended at the elbow and the Centurion's head remaining tilted to the left.

Damage was good.

Kelly had been correct and she signaled a thumbs-up to him that the fire team had hit the Centurion where they had assumed. It was damaged and Lexi felt the statistical probabilities rise, though a part of her MCP's sub-personality algorithms raised complaint; she hated putting an actual number on the statistical probability and thus settled for- she attempted silent humor- 'much more likely I won't get smashed' instead of a number.

The Guardian moved forward. She might as well have gone barefoot, her boots made no noise despite her weight; nearly double that of a biological woman her size. She held the muzzle of her M-38 at a slight angle to the deck, confident in her ability to raise it faster than the damaged Centurion could shoot her.

Centurions were equipped with sensor packages, but Lexi was unsure exactly what types. None of the Centurions encountered by Carter on Caprica had motion sensors and it appeared that only a minority had had them on New Caprica based on Jo and Carter's recollections. She guessed they didn't as she approached… but she did know their hearing was amazing and if she were a human it could have heard her breath if she crept closer.

Though if she was a human, she told herself, she would not be doing this.

Her eyes focused… four meters until the hatch… three… two…

She leapt by and shouted; "Hey, fraker!"

As she'd leapt she was in front of the door for less than a third of a second. In that time she had a clean shot at the Centurion's head and had debated pulling the trigger, but the LSO shack was still in operable condition. If she fired in that confined a space the explosion would destroy the controls… and the flight pod would _not_ automatically re-open if the controls were destroyed.

She hit the ground hard enough to dislocate a shoulder, if she were human, and rolled onto her back and with a firm foot on the ground, kicked back and slid as the Centurion quickly exited the shack and aimed its good arm at her.

There were two pops from the back and the Centurion's chest and shoulder lunged forward and shards of metal and parts rained out of two gaping holes. She fired at a smooth angle right and her EOL discharged an armor piercing, explosive round right under the chin and into the neck. With her reflexes and perception the Centurion's head exploded… and she could see ever stress line and rip in its armored cranium as the explosive expanded and ripped through its delicate insides. It sputtered and clanked to the deck.

"Cap!-"

She heard Kelly shout it as she heard _what_ he was shouting about to warn her. A Centurion stepped out from around the corner, its arm canons extended. Lexi twirled onto her stomach. An explosive round flew by and the Centurion jerked its left shoulder back. The round struck the bulkhead and flashed and blew apart harmlessly on the thick metal. A second raced by and glanced the Centurion in the right thigh and didn't explode.

Lexi pulled the M-38 up as the Centurion fired. She fired. The explosive bullet smashed into its knee and blew off its leg and sent it careening forward as a fourth round race over its head, right where its chest had been, and again exploded harmlessly against the bulkhead.

Half a dozen bullets clawed at Lexi's face and into her shoulder. She'd dropped her head just in time as the Centurion fired again and protected her more delicate optical sensors. The top of her head was well armored and she felt the bullets ping and hammer at her skull and tear away flesh.

She fired again as the Centurion leapt forward on its one good leg. It blew the entire leg off, the force fighting the Cylon's own inertia. It fell but it scrambled and it kept coming, clawing its way forward with lightning speed. If she were human, she'd have been too frightened to move, frozen.

The range was close and the Cylons had closed so quickly she didn't have a firm grip on her M-38. Even with her strength she couldn't resist the Centurion from pulling at her rifle as it latched on. Lexi was stronger than a Model 007 but without a firm foothold this one still pulled her forward.

It yanked and she released the rifle and it threw it behind. It used one hand on the bulkhead to pull itself forward and Lexi went to one knee and her hand, in a blur, reached her pistol. She heard the powered up _whir_ and her finger moved to pull the trigger on the EOL. The Centurion was quick, much faster than the Model 007s and swatted it away. It slashed at her face and ripped the skin clean off.

As the Centurions claw continued to move it through the skin behind it, balled its fist and punched only to have its fist stopped by the small machine.

She closed her hand and didn't let go even as the Centurion swiped at her with its claw. It tore more of her uniform and skin, exposed more of her metal, but she came down onto the wrist joint with her free hand and broke the mechanical forearm in two.

Lexi cocked back as the Centurion fell on her. Her hand was trapped behind her and useless. Hadrian and Kelly were running up but unsure what to do. They could fire and hit her or hold their fire and let her battle the metal monster and pray she won.

Her other hand reached over to the pistol and grabbed it tightly. The Centurion's still working arm clawed and swiped at her, but she struggled and wiggled under the weight of the Centurion. She let her machine body spasm up as she arched her bac, finally freeing her arm. She violently arched her back a second time to the extremes her metal joints would allow, flicking the Cylon in the air for just a moment.

Her arm was where she needed it. Lexi worked it under the Centurion and shoved it back and in midair kicked it, brought the pistol up, and fire one clear shot into its send and sent its decapitated and single-limbed body tumbling end over end under it hit the deck and slid to a half at the end of the bulkhead.

Kelly and Hadrian both jogged up and screeched to a hard halt as Lexi lifted herself and looked back. The looks on their faces were a strong mix of shock, horror, and general confusion. Lexi dimmed her left eye to a low blue glow and blinked the other- which still had eyelids- in silent understanding. Her body was already alerting her to where the tears in the pseudo-skin were.;

Her left face was completely torn from the temple to the clavicle with a piece torn towards her right breast,. There were three deep gash marks on her right bicep which had torn the thin layers of flesh, muscle, and black tunic and exposed blood-stained gray metal. Her right pants leg below the knee was torn from bullet fire and her calf muscle had been destroyed by Centurion bullets while she had been on her stomach.

Both hands were torn and there was very little skin remaining below the knuckles.

Lexi's boot was also shredded. She looked down and tore off the other boot to restore balance, retrieve a small knife and cut off loose skin so it would not interfere with her aim or vision. She did this as Hadrian watched but Kelly had moved to the LSO shack.

"Frak!" The two women heard from inside. Lexi gave Hadrian a look and brushed passed her into the shack and motioned for her to cover them. "This might as well be junked…" Kelly declared with a snarl. He opened a metal plate and showed Lexi. "They fused the wires in. We'll need a replacement… it'll-"

"Incoming," Hadrian hissed quietly.

Lexi quickly grabbed her rifle and stood over Hadrian as she kneeled. Both pressed their rifles into their left shoulders to remain behind the shack hatch frame as much as possible.

The three heard shuffling, not the movements of the metal-footed Centurions, but kept their guard until a Marine in black and M-38 rifle poked his rifle out to get a picture of the corridor sent to his helmet HUD.

"Metal!" someone shouted

"Toaster," Hadrian shouted back.

The Marine staff sergeant motioned for the Guardian and LSO to lower their rifles and stepped out.

"Corporal…" Hadrian said, lowering her weapon and grabbing his hand.

"Staff sergeant…" he responded with a respectful nod. His eyes went wide and stepped back as Lexi appeared. Four other Marines behind him started to raise their rifles but Hadrian snapped at them.

"Lower your weapons!" Hadrian hissed, pushing his barrel down. "She's one of the Guardians… saved our asses here." She jerked her chin to the Centurion behind the Marines.

The corporal eyed the Guardian and let his gaze linger on her metal face for an uncomfortable second before his lip and nose quivered in a silent snarl and turned back to Hadrian.

"We took out another Centurion as it tried to get into the main hull on the rear pylon, staff sergeant," he reported, "but we had reports from CIC before coms went out that they had gotten the LSO shack and retracted pods… there's some Guardians trying to cut in on the aft airlocks but it'll be ten, fifteen minutes and-"

"Corporal." Kelly spoke up and stepped out. "We need gear to repair the shack, bypass the main circuits with a clamps extender-"

"Already on it, sir." He nodded and looked to Hadrian. "We figured they trashed it so…" he looked over his shoulder, "private, get down to the landing bay and get the chief to send a work crew up here ASAP-"

"There's jamming coming in from the Heavy Raider," Lexi said in a slightly distorted voice. Her hand reached up but she couldn't feel under the armor and continued. "You need to disable it so I can communicate with the other Guardians and coordinate."

"We've got Marines already working on that..." he grinned at Hadrian.

The flight pod shook and a bright light flared into the LSO shack, through the hatch, and into the corridor.

"What the frak?" Hadrian cursed.

The corporal grinned. "Heavy Raiders have their com gear up front and fuel in the back and side… their armored so tough they can take a small missile to the front and not explode…" the corporal explained.

"You blew it up in the _hanger_?" Hardian's mouth was agape.

"A risk, the deck plating is thick enough" Lexi stated. "Where are the other Centurions going?" They needed to move.

"_Warning, Centurions approaching CIC. Warning-"_ the wireless buzzed loudly.

* * *

Major Agathon breathed in slowly and then released. The rifle was still covered in blood even after he had wiped it, and the Marine the others had dragged in to CIC had just died and slow and painful death, gasping and grabbing at Helo's sleeve. Helo could see the Marine propped up against a support column off to the side, where a half dozen flat screen monitors displayed internal sensor data. One eye had been locked on the hatch and the other on the dying Marine.

He felt sick and a dark cloud swarmed over him. He'd ordered a Marine corporal, one whose name he didn't know, to leave the dying Marine and get over to them. They needed to be ready. And now that Marine he'd been trying to comfort, hold his hand so he would die knowing someone was there with him, comforting him, had been snatched away.

Helo threw that thought out of his mind. CIC was a chamber of confused and frightened souls praying to the gods they would somehow make it. The blast door to CIC was locked. It was stronger than the average door inside the aging tin can but the Centurions had been seen using some sort of explosive goop to blow the locks off which put Colonial CB-9 thermal explosive to shame.

Marines outside the blast door had set up what they hoped would be a kill zone outside CIC. Colonel Tigh had wanted them inside but they'd insisted to at least try and stop them _before_ they got to CIC. If the Centurions got in and started firing they could decapitate the command structure of one of three Colonial warships left in existence.

"Focus," Commander Adama whispered to a crewman. He looked at a shaking junior crewman with a pistol one over from the Marine on his right. Tigh's head snapped over as a printer activated and spat out a stuttered report. He had to laugh at the site, as ridiculous as it was. "Here they come." He whispered.

The Commander had taken a position near Tigh and the others, at the navigation plot. Tigh and Adama had spaced out. They didn't want the entire command group killed in one go, not that all being locked in CIC with rampaging Centurions wasn't bad enough.

"Felix!" Helo hissed.

Gaeta was fiddling with his switch board and waved impatiently for Helo to shush. He dropped to one knee and went on his back. He used a multi-tool and pried open the metal access panel under his console. Helo winced when something spark and Gaeta yelped, but he continued warning.

"Got it!" He yelled and swung up to his knees. He grabbed the sound powered phone and punched the button for acess to the wireless systems the Marines were using. "Warning, Centurions approaching CIC. Warning-"

And then a loud screech erupted.

"Excellent work, Mr. Gaeta! Now get back up to your defensive post!" Hissed Tigh. "Maybe now we might get reinforcements," he whispered, "and not die today."

There hadn't been enough pistols and rifles, not for everyone in CIC. They had no idea which way the Centurions could come. They'd set up a tiered defense. Colonel Tigh, Helo, two Marines, and two crewmembers were crouched behind the central console, rifles and pistols pointed at both main entrances to CIC. The third rear entrance would have required three blast doors for the Centurions to get through and reports said only three were on their way… Tigh grunted. _Only three_, he mentally repeated, his lip curling up in a look of unadulterated hated for the bullet heads.

He caught Helo's eyes and they both twisted around. Helo's back cracked and he let out a soft 'ooo' from the release of the tension. Tigh chuckled and shook his head. Both senior officers nodded up to the crewmen before Tigh's single eye locked once again with Helo's.

"Helo…" he tilted his head.

He didn't want this to be the end but if it was he wanted to at lest make _some_ amends, and gods knew he hadn't treated the major all that well.

The third in command of _Galactica_ closed his eyes and gave a shallow nod. They both turned back, each to an opposite hatch.

Above them on the second row of consoles at the communications row were two Marines and Dee and Gaeta with rifles and pistol. At the top along the Core and DC consoles was the rest of the CIC staff. Only three of them had rifles and two others pistols. From that vantage point they had a clear line of fire to both main hatches into the primary level of CIC.

Both Helo and Tigh opened their lungs and breathed in deeply.

Rifles fire and bright yellow lights glittered through the eye-height porthole on both hatches. The sounds of armor piercing explosive ammunition ripped through the thick metal bulkheads and with the _crack crack crack_ of rifle fire sung loudly in the ears of the roughly two dozen CIC personnel.

Between the pops and cracks of Colonial rifle fire the crew stuck inside CIC could hear the loud cracks of heavy Centurion rifles. The deck plates shuttered as _something_ exploded and before Helo or Tigh could release their breath the fight outside CIC had reached its conclusion.

There was a moment of tempered silence, broken only by a sudden burst of static as internal monitoring stations went dead and something thumped on the hull.

The Guardians were coming, but not fast enough. Even running, the CIC was buried so deep, the Cylons had damaged the hatches so extensively that anything would be long in coming to their rescue.

The sounds of mechanical footsteps rapidly approached.

* * *

Caprica Six had been a fighter ever since she'd achieved consciousness, since that moment she'd grasped the sides of her birth tank, her lungs on fire, and rose out of the gel, gasping for breath. She'd known since her creation she was a tool. But she'd fought, rebelled and turned against the Cylons and her creator. Her people were at war with themselves, half of her kind questioning their very nature. But right now she needed to fight… but she couldn't.

She closed her eyes and listened to her breath as the sounds of heavy gunfire and continuous _cracks_ of rifles spitting bullets reached her ears. Her chest heaved as heavy breaths were sucked into lungs.

There was no chance of resurrection and no opportunity for redemption. This would be her fate and this day she would be judged by God.

Here she was, cornered in her brig cell, and prepared to die.

The bio-Cylon had felt the Centurion's presence before she had heard the gunfire. It had sent a cold, foreign signal to her. Her bio-Cylon physiology, a mix of organic and carefully selected bio-technological pieces allowed her wireless communication with the Centurions.

The Centurion in the corridor was far different than any she had felt before. This one seemed to be taunting her, toying with her, almost bragging that it was coming to kill her.

She stood up as the gunfire ceased and the _stomp-stomp-stomp_ of mechanical footsteps came to a rest outside the hatch to the brig. Within her cell she was locked and caged. And she considered this an almost fitting end.

For a moment, a little piece of her sparked, and tried to ignite a fire in her belly to fight. But she extinguished it and reserved herself to her fate. She had the blood of twenty billion on her hands and in that last moment she knew she had, she prayed for forgiveness and cursed herself for believing that God would want His children to war against themselves.

If she was damned then she would embrace her eternal fate.

"_I do love you,"_ she heard someone say.

Her eyes opened and she looked at the man she loved standing across from her next to the door to her cell. He was in the same suit the day they had first met, with the same haircut and same wickedly sly, arrogant smile she had loved so much. Beneath the arrogance and ego she'd seen a true man worthy of love.

"I'm so sorry…"she struggled to whisper. The deep brown eyes of her love sparkled as a tear formed. He took a step forward to meet her and stroked her face.

"_You don't have to worry."_ He said.

She closed her eyes. "I love you, Gaius."

She jumped as the hatch was smashed opened. It flew back on its hinges twisted and bent.

Caprica saw the red pulse of the Centurion's eye as it stepped into the brig and approached her cell. Its oversized rifle rested in one hand, almost lazily, pointing towards the deck. It took less than a second to stop. It let its crimson eye halt mid-swoosh and it pulsed ominously as it prepared to kill her.

* * *

Helo and Tigh both watched separate blast doors, each diverting their eyes, darting up and down, left and right, as thermal pace burned white hot through the metal. The hatches were thick and built with some tough-as-frak material, but everything could be defeated, given time. The Cylons had brought along a compound for more effective than Colonial thermal paste, of course.

The sounds of mechanical feet stomping were fiercely loud, right outside the door. They quickly grew quiet as they retreated down the corridor…

Then the hatch frames exploded. The doors didn't exploded back, not really, due to their weight. They plopped down to the ground before being pushed back by intimidating metallic soldiers, Centurions intent on murder and death. Blood bathed their gray-black armor and made them appear as demons and death incarnate, here to cast the CIC crew to the pits of Hades.

No one gave the order to open fire and Tigh didn't even bother. No one hesitated. The Centurions were quick, too quick.

Commander Adama was the first to fire. His bullet struck a Centurion on the first hit but didn't explode. He cursed and dropped into cover, a Marine taking position and firing.

Two Centurions ripped across CIC from the hatch Tigh had been watching and one from the Hatch Helo had been watching.

The duo separated. One Centurion went left and the other right and used the support braces for cover. Its overpowered rifle, a canon as Tigh had described it, spat bullets at the upper tier of defenders in the Core and DC. Consoles exploding, paper was shredded. Glass and plastic were dangerous fragmens. Broken everything showered the defenders.

The second Centurion fired at the collected soldiers in the center, forcing them down. The central console showered sparks and died. Something flamed, sparked, and fizzled. The overhead DRADIS displays were wrecked by erratic fire from someone.

The third Centurion sidestepped right and fell to one knee as explosive rounds ripped past where its torso was. More consoles and screens exploded.

An explosive bullet zipped past Tigh and Helo. It ricocheted off a sloped portion of the Centurion's armor, exploding harmlessly half way up the far bulkhead.

Something was thrown towards Adama and the Marine. The Old Man just barely pulled down the Marine as a monitor a Centurion had knocked loose flew by their heads. Bullets followed.

Bullets from the Centurions returned fire with deadly and hellish precision. A stream of bullets tore out the neck of a Marine. The Centurion swiveled and kept a finger on the trigger, sweeping the tiers, heading towards Dee. Gaeta bravely grabbed her and pulled her down as half a dozen bullets made their murderous intent known as they slammed and pinged against the consoles behind their heads.

Both Colonials got up and returned fire, ineffective yet defiantly. Dee went down in screaming agony as everything around her began to explode.

A Marine from the top tier rose quickly up and fired a burst of armor piercing rounds at the lone Centurion which pinged. Gaeta loaded his last explosive round and fired even as consoles exploded and showered him with debris. He yelled in righteous, vengeful furry and pulled the trigger as the console in front of him exploded and sent shrapnel into his sides and neck. He fell and landed on his side. His eyes met Dee's.

Bellow them Helo bucked as a ricochet from the command console came back and slammed into his forearm. He dropped the rifle and feel to his elbow. The Centurion in front of him dropped, a hole in its flank, but continued firing. It's round hit the Marine in the chest and bounced him into the console, dropping his rifle. Helo rolled onto his wounded arm, screaming in agony, and yanked the rifle from the limp hands of the Marine.

He rose but the rifle jammed.

The Centurion aimed at him.

"Hey Fraker!" He heard.

Adama had distracted the Centurion with a yell and three quick and well-placed shots. Helo had time to duck and he threw the rifle between his legs, his arm still aching, and pulled at the action, dislodging an explosive round.

The sounds of Colonial fire followed by Centurion fire echoed and rung loudly in Helo's ears; he needed to get this done. His head poked quickly above the console. Adama was crouched and the two saw each other. Adama rose when the Cylons repositioned, its fire thrown off slightly bby its sudden movement.

Helo had his opportunity, gritted his teeth and sucked in the pain and gripped the weapons tightly with both hands, shot up and as he felt the moment was right he fired and two rounds tore through the air. The recoil hurt so much but he stayed up for that precious second if he needed to fire again.

One hit the chest of the Centurion. In slow motion Helo's eyes glued themselves to the Centurion's chest as the bullet penetrated and tore through the frontal armor. There was a small hole, just barely visible through the smoke. It exploded and the Centurion heaved forward and spasmed. A second bullet hit right at the exposed neck and sent the Centurion flailing back, its head jerking left and right, its dark and brooding eye blinking violently.

Helo fired the last two remaining explosive rounds. One explosive bullet hit true and tore a larger hole, a gaping hole into the damaged chest armor from the first bullet. The second went deeper and exploded next to the power core. The Centurion went into violent contractions and fell to the deck.

Helo pulled the trigger. Adrenaline coursed through his exhausted body.

A click.

A last surge of energy as an auxiliary battery tried to take over was met with fire from a Marine. The top of its hit and part of its visor exploded into bits of burning hot metal. A piece struck Helo in the cheek, cutting him and rforcing him to spin around and drop, his back slamming into the console as he sought protection.

He swirled around and looked behind as he twisted. Gaeta and Dee were nowhere. Blood soaked the wall of consoles from behind the communication's station. Bullet holes were everywhere. Everything was shredded to pieces. Barely one in five monitors were working, most of them only flickering static. Thee third tier had two people still firing.

"Get up soldier!" Tigh shouted without looking back.

Helo swung fully around and fired at the Centurion on his left making its way up to the third tier defense and the Core and DC stationed.

Tigh saw his opportunity and fired. An explosive round was belched from his rifle but the Centurion maneuvered away and it slammed harmlessly into a monitor. As a final insult it didn't even bother to explode.

The Colonel thumbed the rifle to regular bullets, AP, but probably not good enough to pierce the armor, he thought cryptically.

Then the Centurion noticed the lack of exploding rounds being fired at it and lurched and hopped over the console. The Marine still firing in front of the one-eyed Colonial was smacked away with a casual wave of the Centurion's hand. It grabbed Helo and Tigh's weapons and yanked them from their hands, dislocating Tigh's shoulder. He grunted and both gagged as the Centurion grabbed their throats and squeezed.

He held them up to the third tier of defenders, still firing.

Commander Adama had swiveled to free his friend, taking aim. But he was knocked back by the Centurion, holding Tigh.

It looked down at the commander as the staccato'ed rifle fire from above began to diminish.

"_Surrender Now Or They Die."_ It commanded in a cold, mechanical voice.

* * *

Caprica locked her eyes with the Centurion. Dark red blood spotted its gray-black armor. In a moment of serene calm the bio-Cylon straightened as the Centurion stepped forward and wrapped its claws around the hatch to the cell.

It pulled once and then twice and the metal groaned and tore. A third pull dislodged enough for it to get its claws within the frame and the fourth pull broke it free. The door fell without fuss to the ground and clattered once and was silent.

The Centurion stepped inside and raised the rifle-

Caprica recoiled and fell to her knees as a ear-popping explosion ripped through the brig and sent the Centurion staggering forward. A second _boom_- and Caprica clutched her ears- threw the Centurion over her back and slammed it into the rear of her cell.

She scrambled back and searched for the rifle the Centurion had dropped. A third explosion ripped apart the back armor of the Centurion and sent a piece of shrapnel loose into the air which cut deep into Caprica's arm. She yelped and scrambled to the far corner of the cell as a second machine sprinted in.

It had the Centurion pinned against the back of the cell- not that the Centurion could fight its attacker now- and rammed its hand into the Centurions back and ripped out a handful of sparking black cables and tossed them to the deck like garbage.

One other Colonial rushed in and were far less concerned with the Centurion than the bio-Cylon with a heavy battle rifle at her feet.

Caprica's mind didn't even consider the possibility of reaching for it; not after what she had just confessed to herself. Instead she nervously licked her lips and inspected her wound and stood up and patiently waited.

"You need to come with us," the female robot said as it turned to her. "Your skills are required."

"What's happening?" She asked, stepping forward and nodding her agreement. "We've been boarded-"

Staff Sgt. Hadrian interrupted. "The CIC is under attack. We were heading up there when we heard the gunshot and Lexi," she nodded at the grizzly and bloody robot, "said we could use your help."

"Cynet must have targeted me," Caprica said to herself. "It knew I left with Gaius-"

"That's great," the Colonial Marine snapped. "Captain Kelly?"

The Captain came in from the corridor and tossed an armored vest to the Cylon. He shot a weary glance at the Marine and a soft sigh was his reservations vocalized.

"Where are the rest of the Marines?" Caprica asked as she slid on the vest and quickly adjusted it. Combat was bred into her.

"The Cylons opened compartments to space and the hatches sealed. There trams are down and most of the Marines are stuck near the flight pods if they aren't in CIC," Kelly quickly explained. He brought up a rifle and handed her explosive round magazines. She grabbed the rifle but he didn't let go, instead gritting his teeth, his nostrils flared and the he released the rifle with a jerk.

The Guardian machine turned back around and stepped forward and grabbed the oversized battle rifle. She tossed the other one on her back and let the sling nestle across her chest. Lexi cocked the hammer back. The petite machine was handling the rifle as well as any of the massive Centurions.

"Let's go," she said.

* * *

Colonel Tigh tried desperately to think of a way out of this. A Centurion stood over him and a dozen others who had been gathered up like animals and herded into the center of CIC on the first level. Dead bodies littered the decks, smoke hung thick in the air, and the disturbing smell of burned flesh was intoxicating. Tigh felt light headed and a part of that was from him still trying to breath after the Centurion had lifted him from his feet and used him to force the Marines to surrender.

He caught Helo's pleading eye which stabbed out in silent agony to 'do something!' But the colonel was stuck. There was _nothing_ he could do.

The two surviving Centurions had massacred those who resisted… he looked slowly to Lt. Gaeta cradling Dee in his lap. He'd been shot, a through and through, he was in immense pain, Tigh could tell. The officer was propped up against a console and running his hand down the petty officer's cheek.

Her normal copper skin was pale and he watched her chest rise and fall slowly as she struggled to breathe.

He and Helo were separated from the other survivors. The commander was separated from all of them, a Centurion standing over him. He looked defiant, even in his pain. They'd done something… the way he was holding his arm, it looked like the Centurion must have broken it.

The Centurion had ripped open the command console and was doing _something_ with the wires. Tigh couldn't tell, but it looked almost like what Athena had done to purge the virus.

"What do they want?" Helo whispered, cautiously moving himself closer to Tigh.

The Centurion turned and in one step had its clawed hands around Major Agathon's throat.

"Gods damnit!" Tigh yelled and reflexively lunged at the Centurion. It casually backhanded him and he felt bones break in his face as he landed with a hard _thud_ on the deck. His head smacked into the back of a plotting table's support legs and he groaned.

The Centurion released Helo and he collapsed to the deck like a ragdoll.

Tigh looked horrified as his eyes refocused and saw some of the captured crew stir, almost ready to charge the Centurion. Adama waved him down and the two men saw the pain in the other's glistening eyes. Tigh could see Adama's fire building as fraking Centurions mauled and insulted his CIC by their very presence.

He heard metal hitting the deck next to him and groggily turned his body and stared at a com headset. Tigh dragged his eyes along the deck and felt relief wash over him as he saw Helo roll and groan. The Centurion hadn't killed him, after all.

The one choking the Major stalked over and pointed at the com headset.

"Contact _Pegasus_." It commanded to Adama. "Inform them we have your ship. They are ordered to give the Temple of the Eye to us." Its voice was masculine and hard and mechanical.

Adama nodded slowly and reached out for the com headset and fell to his chest. Adma held the headset up and as he raised it, looking like he would put it on, threw it at the Centurion's head.

The Centurion stepped forward and wrapped its claws into Tigh's uniform back. The grizzled colonel yelled as the razor sharp metal tore into his skin.

The Centurion threw him onto his feet and pushed him into the tactical display. His back arched as the Centurion pressed its open metal claw onto his chest.

"Frak you!" Adama snarled.

"Now." It commanded in the same cold, lifeless mechanical voice. "Or Colonel Tigh will be killed."

The Colonel prayed to the gods- something he didn't do often- and hoped for a miracle-

"Don't do it, Bill!" The Centurion aimed its weapon at Tigh. He knew it was going to pull the trigger. They both knew. "Frak you you fraking metal toaster and-"

Gunfire exploded in the CIC. Adama rushed to his friend's side. They ducked and maneuvered away as a firefight broke out and crew tried to escape or reclaim their weapons.

Tigh grabbed at a gun. An explosion had him stumble backward and he hit a console, something jabbed into Tigh and he felt ribs crack. He ignored the pain and saw an opening as the Cylons were distracted by the… frak, the Guardian and other Marines and… he charged for a new position, something with cover.

The Cylons saw him. One swiveled and pointed. Yellow fire erupted from its gun. Bullets, aimed for Tigh, rushed at him with his death their only objective.

In that moment he felt hands on him and he lost sight of the Centurion.

Commander Adama had him, charged him, and pushed him to safety…

* * *

Lexi took point with Caprica Six behind her. Captain Kelly and Staff Sgt. Hadrian were behind them moving up methodically. The Marines guarding CIC were dead and thick pools of blood bathed the deck and bulkheads. It was slick, even for combat boots, and machine, bio-Cylon, and Colonial all alike had to watch their step or risk slipping and alerting the Centurions inside CIC.

If the Centurions had been repelled there would be Marines outside the hatch. There would be sound. None of the four expected to find anyone alive but the emotional ramifications for Kelly and Hadrian had not yet reached those two. For Lexi this was a mission and while she enjoyed the company of _Galactica_'s crew, she had felt no emotional connection. For Caprica this was a chance to strike at Cynet and while she didn't fully realize it consciously, a part of her saw this as her greatest opportunity to earn the trust of the humans.

Lexi held up her hand. Caprica twisted her head slightly to position an ear forward- the explosions in her brig cell had dampened her bio-Cylon hearing, but she could hear a cold and mechanical voice commanding someone to do something.

The Guardian held up her hand to indicate friendlies. Hadrian and Kelly exchanged an exchange look. Kelly prayed that his friends had been taken alive… maybe the Centurions needed something? He mentally grimanced at the remote chance… but the Cylons had changed their behavior and tactics so it was possible they were taking hostages. And that meant they could be rescued.

Lexi signaled for them to get ready and she took a step forward, Caprica right on her heels.

They approached the hatch and could hear the defiant voice of Colonel Tigh cursing a Centurion.

She knew the Colonel and everyone else wouldn't have much time if the Centurions detected them. She stepped and with a leap of faith, appeared in the hatch and opened fire with the battle rifle.

* * *

Colonel Tigh was separated from the commander. He couldn't see Adama, not totally. He saw the man, finally, from the corner of his eye at the command console.

Tigh had to grab a weapon. The pain in his back was almost unbearable, but he needed a weapon.

The Guardian was fighting the Centurion and fraking Zeus's cock and Hera's cunt, Caprica Six was fighting the gods damned raking Centurions.

Tigh felt he needed a drink just about as much as he needed a gun right about then.

* * *

Lexi and Caprica came through at the same time. Lexi saw a Centurion with its back to her and she opened fire. The bullets pinged and penetrated into the Centurion but it turned back and fired with a blurred motion.

She stepped into CIC and took cover behind a console. Caprica was to her right and the bio-Cylon quickly leaned to the side and fired an explosive round. It streaked by the head of a Centurion and exploded on the far bulkhead of CIC. She fired again but the Centurion she had been aiming for had already moved and was position on the mid-level of CIC and firing without stop at the two women.

Caprica saw Tigh and Adama go down, one pulling at the other. Her mind's speed allowed her to fight and simultaneously see Adama pulled himself somewhere, clutching at his stomach and Tigh rolled, taking cover behind a console.

Hadrian and Kelly stepped out from the hatch and fire. One explosive round smacked into the arm, at the elbow joint, of the Centurion which had been threatening Colonel Tigh. Its lower arm exploded and fell to the ground. It lunged forward over the console to close the distance and grabbed a binder, throwing it as a distraction at the bio-Cylon.

Caprica bent back, the binder narrowly missing her head.

She scrambled away as the Centurion came crashing over the console and fell with its chest on Lexi. She stepped for cover behind the support beam to the right of the main CIC entrance and fired two more explosive rounds. One hit behind the dodging and maneuvering Centurion and knocked it forward off its feet. It rose too quickly and fired back, throwing Caprica back under cover.

Caprica heard Hadrian curse as her gun jammed and she switched to armor piercing fire. The bullets stuttered out and pinged onto the Centurion's armor almost wastefully. But she kept her fire up, hoping for that lucky shot into a joint or a thin plate.

If resurrection as still viable- if humans could resurrect- a few G4 charges would have solved this so quickly… she grimaced. Her own mortality made this feel so strange, so… different.

If she lived, if any of them lived then this could be the defining moment of her life as she selflessly defended those who'd have her dead as she proved herself to those she had yearned so much to kill and whose civilization's death she was guilty for drove her forward to repent.

This was her moment.

The bio-Cylon had no time to wait as Kelly moved into the CIC to take up a firing position on the Centurion. She heard the sounds of Lexi and the Centurion battling to the left of her.

Lexi felt the heavy weight of the Centurion on her. Her battle rifle was thrown aside and the Centurion left limb stump had speared her in the left shoulder. It's right arm grabbed her by the left bicep. Its limb stump pressed down as its right arm pulled back and Lexi heard the metal tear as the Centurion pulled her right arm clean from its socket.

With nothing but a blank expression she smacked the Centurion with an open palm and dislodged it enough to get her foot under. She pressed up and threw it straight up. She kicked it again and it launched at an angle into a bank of computers, which exploded and showered the Centurion with sparks.

It stood as she catapulted to her feet. It still held her arm. It raised it and brought it down in a slash and pummeled her with her own arm. He fell to the deck under the brutality of the Centurion's attack.

She heard something whiz by, a subued whine, right over her head and felt the heat from an explosion prickle the back of her neck where the skin was still able to feel sensation. Without looking up she extended her legs and almost flew through the air and smashed intot he Centurion with her right shoulder. It staggered back and as she fell she swept with her leg and knocked it off balance. It released her arm and she snatched it in mid-fall.

In a reverse she had her own arm by the wrist and raised it and smacked the Centurion right on the faceplate with it, shattering its optical sensor and denting its metal cranium. It slashed at her with its good arm and knocked her arm from her grip.

Lexi rolled as the Centurion kicked and its metal pronged foot hit nothing but empty air. She raised a fist and aimed for the Centurion's throat. It hit its metal chin and its slid down its curved armor, doing little damage.

She heard something explode and fall on the other side of CIC.

Then Lexi felt the Centurion smash its hand into her waist and crack her armor.

The momentum threw her onto her side and reacting with only the precision a machine could threw the tip of her elbow in a downward strike, redirected all the power she could to her servos and motors, and slammed it into the Centurion's head.

It went in and as she pulled it out the last bits of black uniform and skin still on her arm tore off. She heard Caprica yell and Lexi kicked back from the Centurion. Red and orange flames flashed in her optical sensors and heat danced on her pseudo-skin as one, then two, and then a third explosive round finished the Centurion.

The battle had been over in thirty, maybe forty seconds. A minute at most. Colonel Tigh had been ready to spit in the face plate of the Centurion and die. He would die on his feet, defying the fraking toasters to the very end.

It had been a flash. The commander had knocked him out of the way. He remembered that. Bullets had ripped apart CIC. Machines had fought hand to hand, ripping each other to shreds in blurry images of death and mayhem. He could smell the death around him.

He slowly grasped the corner of a console and pulled himself up, closing his eyes and moaning as his whole body ached. It felt like he'd sprinted into a brick wall over and over.

There was a DC man in green fatigues with a fire extinguisher frantically putting out a small fire in the corner. He didn't know if he ordered anyone, but he pushed and pointed someone to help the lone man. He thought how dangerous fire was on ships. He remembered the first day of the Cylon attack and the fire in the pod. The tyllium… losing the whole ship if it ignited, how the Old Man had put him in charge, how Bill had trusted…

Tigh's gut contracted.

There was the bio-Cylon kneeling over his friends, her hands covered in blood. There was a foot, motionless, just barely visible. Its owner was lying behind the command console.

"Get away from him, you bitch!" He cursed at Caprica, pushing, almost throwing himself off the console he was using to hold himself up. He stumbled over, a crewman caught up in his rage and used as a human crutch.

Tigh fell to his knees. "MEDIC!" He grabbed Caprica by the arm, his fingers sliding off from the blood. He pushed her back and felt for a pulse. "MEDIC!"

Caprica Six ripped off part of her tattered pants and bundled it, holding it over the gushing wound.

Colonel Tigh remembered. His friend he pushed him out of the way as the Centurions fired. He remembered the sound of the bullets tearing into his commander, his best gods damned fraking friend in the whole worlds.

He grabbed his friends hand. "Gods damnit, Bill, don't!" He felt a squeeze, tight, firm. Adama opened his eyes, the cobalt blue glistening under the flickering lights of CIC. He smiled.

The colonel cried as his old friend closed his eyes, as Bill's hand went limp. He buried his face in his chest, wrapped his hands around the Old Man, hugging him, not wanting to let go. Medics were there, trying to separate the friends.

It was too late. Too fraking late.


End file.
